An Illusion
by LoopyToucan
Summary: Welcome to the 53rd Hunger Games, where nothing is as it seems. This year, a new Head Gamemaker, Cherokee Winters has been introduced. Twenty-four children will fight to the death, with only one victor. But how can they survive these Games, when the arena around them is simply an illusion?
1. The Head Gamemaker

**Hello People of the World,**

**Welcome to my very first Hunger Games FanFic. This is NOT a SYOT, and all characters have already been decided. However, I'm always open to requests, suggestions, and predictions.**

**This first chapter takes place a while before the following chapters, and is simply a prologue/flashback chapter.**

**Enough explaining! Let's get started!**

The Head Gamemaker

Cherokee Winters tapped her long fingernails against her forehead, trying to think of an idea for her debut arena. For hours, she had been sitting at her desk, sharpening pencils until they were no longer usable. A pile of crumpled sketches was at Cherokee's feet, mocking her.

To her surprise, someone knocked gently on her mahogany door.

"It's open," Cherokee called, curious to see who her guest was.

President Snow slipped into her room, bringing the strong scent of roses with him.

"Miss Winters, are the plans ready yet?" President Snow asked.

"I am... almost finished," Cherokee lied, covering the blank paper in front of her.

"Is that so?" he inquired, amused. When the Gamemaker did not reply, the president simply smiled. "I didn't think so," he hissed.

"I, I.. um," Cherokee floundered, panicking.

"If this was not your first year, I would punish you severely for feeding me lies. For now, there will be no consequences. However, I must receive your finalized plans by the end of this week, if you wish to live," Snow demanded, coldly.

"Yes, sir!" Cherokee exclaimed immediately. "I will not rest until the arena is complete."

"Good." With a curt nod, President Snow exited the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Cherokee sighed, taking a fresh sheet of paper. She was always horrible at working under pressure, and now, the sickly scent of roses was adding to her massive headache.

She took a few deep breaths and got to work.

Immediately, Cherokee decided that she was not going to stuff the Cornucopia with goodies. She wanted to create a death trap that had no reward. _But what would serve as the bait?_ Cherokee wondered.

Then it struck her. An idea so brilliant that it would guarantee Cherokee the title of Head Gamemaker for years and years to come.

* * *

Cherokee ended up working into the early hours of morning before she rested. The main outline had been completed, and now, only minor details remained to be decided.

She neatened up her stack of notes and hid it under some books. No one could know about her plan. No one could steal the glory of Cherokee Winters.

Cherokee could not keep the smile off of her face as she combed her hair, ate a snack, and brushed her teeth. She fell asleep in her luxurious bed, still beaming.

In her dream, the genius arena had been constructed, and 24 girls and boys were standing on metal plates. Cherokee grinned at the frightened looks on their faces as they drank in the sight of her masterpiece.

After sixty seconds, the gong ran, and chaos erupted. The shrieks of terror were a soothing melody to her ears, and the sight of so much crimson temporarily sated her unquenchable desire for blood.

And then, Cherokee was sitting in an armchair across from Caesar Flickerman, a triumphant smile on her face.

"It is my pleasure to be in front of you all today, accompanied by the lovely... Cherokee Winters!" Caesar announced to the Capitol. A deafening roar of approval came from the crowd that did not stop for a full minute.

Caesar praised each aspect of her arena over and over again, proclaiming each feature as "Brilliant! Simply brilliant!" with loud agreement from the audience.

Cherokee caught sight of her face on a huge TV screen, and couldn't help but smile even wider. Her stylist had powdered her entire body, making her seem especially pale, and then painted her lips a bright red. Cherokee was clothed in a blood-red dress with a cluster of rubies at her throat.

Everything was simply perfect.

* * *

As soon as Cherokee had finished her plans, she called President Snow, bursting with excitement.

"Calm yourself!" he barked as soon as he entered her room. Instantaneously, Cherokee stopped smiling and bouncing up and down. She simply laid out the diagrams and stepped out of the way.

President Snow studied them, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Your arena is extremely... deceptive," he began, pursing his puffy lips.

"I, I thought that would make it more exciting," Cherokee replied quietly.

"And it will," Snow answered smoothly, a devilish look in his eyes. Cherokee relaxed her tense shoulders and allowed herself to smile a little.

"You've outdone yourself, Miss Winters. I'm impressed," he complimented. Cherokee grinned. "But just remember: if the rest of your arenas don't meet this standard, I will be finding a new Head Gamemaker," President Snow warned.

He smirked at the sight of her crestfallen face and walked briskly towards the door.

"Begin the construction of the arena immediately. The tributes will be arriving sooner than you think," President Snow commented before leaving.

"Of course," Cherokee chirped, determined to stay optimistic. As soon as the President was gone, Cherokee placed her notes in a folder and called the other Gamemakers to set up a meeting. Before she went downstairs, Cherokee applied a fresh coat of blood-red lipstick.

Smiling at her reflection, Cherokee opened the door and headed down to the meeting.

* * *

"President Snow left this for you," a young man told Cherokee, handing her a folded sheet of paper.

She practically shivered in excitement, knowing that this was the list of tributes that would be in her arena. Without a word, Cherokee unfolded the paper and scanned the list of names.

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

_Don't worry, children. I'll make your deaths spectacular, _Cherokee thought to herself as she slipped the page into her pocket.

* * *

**So there it is, the first chapter. Tell me guys what you think in a review.**

**Announcement: I am _not_ going to write the Reapings, because I feel like they're kind of boring to read AND write. Sure, they give you a little background information on the characters, but I think I can achieve the same result in the interviews.**

**So the next chapters are going to be somewhat like this:**

**Chariot Rides**

**Training 1**

**Training 2**

**Training 3**

**SOME Private Sessions with the Gamemakers**

**Interviews 1**

**Interviews 2**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	2. The Chariot Ride

**Hello People of the World,**

**Welcome to the Chariot Ride! That's really all I have to say, so...**

**Enjoy!**

The Chariot Ride

_Sap Martin- District 7_

For hours, my prep team has been busy scrubbing, waxing, and painting my body. My skin has turned bright red, partially from the harsh treatment, and partially from all the insults I've been receiving.

"Oh, dear, your complexion is so _pasty_!" One women complains, applying another coat of tinted cream on my face.

"And her hair's rough and stringy," another whines.

"Decius will be disappointed," a lady grumbles, rolling her eyes. "It's been ages since they sent us a _good _tribute."

I'm about to retaliate when my face is suddenly dunked into a basin full of water.

"Much better!" my prep team choruses. The tallest one pushes a button and speaks into it. "Decius, we're ready for you!"

Somewhere to my left, an elevator door opens, revealing the most comical-looking man I've ever seen. Decius's hair is a bright orange color that stands straight up on his head in a cone at least two feet tall.

I can't help but laugh at his hairstyle, earning a pointed look from Decius.

"I'm in charge of making you look stunning for the sponsors, but I could just as easily make you look like a fool," Decius threatens, patting at his hair.

"Sorry," I mumble quickly, looking down at my bare feet.

With a flourish, my stylist whips out a small notebook and commands, "Measure her!"

The ladies comply, wrapping tape measures around all parts of my body and shouting out numbers. Decius scribbles furiously, snaps the notebook shut and tucks it back into his pocket.

"I should have enough to work with for now," Decius drawls, strolling out the room.

"He's so perfect," a chubby, pink woman sighs, a stupid grin on her face. I grimace, but don't say anything.

"Darling, you can just rest until Decius gets back," one of them tells me kindly.

* * *

"I'm back!" Decius announces dramatically, holding out a dress for me to wear. They all help me slip it on, and I model the outfit in front of the mirror.

The bottom and middle of the dress is flowing, brown fabric that is arranged to look like protruding branches. At the neck, ruffles that resemble leaves begin and surround my head in a leafy hood.

"It's genius!" someone shouts.

"No, no, no," Decius mutters. I raise an eyebrow at him. "The girl's already so thin, and the looseness just makes her look like she's drowning in the dress. It's absolutely awful! Minerva, do you have any ideas?" he asks, rubbing his temples.

"Well, the basic idea of the dress is just fine, but it needs some alterations. Decius, _darling_, don't worry. I'll have her fixed up in no time," Minerva coos, earning an approving nod.

The prep team swarms around me and starts pinning, sewing, snipping and painting furiously, chattering the whole while. Finally, Minerva commands them to back off as she adds the finishing touches.

With an alarming tearing noise, she cuts off my sleeves and gets to work painting my arms. When she's done, my arms have the same design as the lower half of my dress, completing my look as a tree.

With a satisfied smile, Minerva jabs the button, summoning Decius instantly.

"Oh, Minerva, she looks simply magnificent!" he cries, throwing his arms around her. Minerva smirks at the rest of the team and whispers with Decius for a few minutes.

The prep team surrounds me again and begins doing my makeup. As three of the women dust pale, green powder on my face, Minerva dyes my hair green and curls it to match the leaves, while Decius supervises.

"She's a finished masterpiece, ladies!" Decius crows, pulling my away from them. "Now, Sap," he begins in a hushed voice. "I want you to hold your arms out at an angle so they look like branches." I do as he says, and then wait as Decius studies me.

His tattooed hands pull my left arm down lower and push the right one higher. "Perfect! Sap, go out there and make the audience _love_ you!"

Decius scoots me out the door to the area where the chariots are stationed. We're going to begin in less than five minutes, so I just run to my chariot. Fell is already inside, wearing a matching outfit.

"Right now, we're some pretty pathetic trees," Fell says. Then he leans in closer and relays an idea to me. I can't help but smile. His idea is absolutely brilliant.

District One's chariot begins moving, and the rest of us follow.

"Now," Fell signals. I move closer to him and Fell puts his head next to mine. Then, I press my hip against his. Lastly, we cross our arms over each others, and put on a shining smile for the audience.

I can't help but glance at the jumbo screens when our chariot rolls out in front of the Capitol. Fell and I look like a massive tree with out-stretched branches and a glorious crown of leaves. The Capitolites scream their approval at us, and shock me by chanting, "Seven, Seven, Seven!"

All too soon, it is over, and the tributes are hustled to their stylists to get out of their costumes.

The moment I enter the room, Minerva glares at me accusingly. "You disobeyed Decius's instructions!" Minerva exclaims, her face livid.

"My darling Minerva, _do_ calm down," Decius responds gently. "Sap, though I'm a bit upset that you didn't listen to me, your Chariot Ride was marvelous. I have a feeling that District 7 has a shot at the crown this year." Decius smiles proudly at me and helps me out of the dress.

Minerva then washes all of the makeup off of my body, still glowering. I try to ignore her and wait patiently until my looks have returned to normal.

"Rest up, Sap. I'll get working on the dress for your interview right away," Decius promises, ushering me towards the elevator.

I'm just about to ride up to District 7's level when I hear someone telling me to wait. A breathless Fell immerges from around the corner and gets into the elevator with me.

My eyes widen with shock as I take in the sight of bruises on Fell's arms. "What happened?" I blurt.

"Well, my stylist apparently didn't like my idea," Fell fumes, rubbing the sore spots. "He said that combining our costumes made us look foolish and unfocused, and that getting attached to you would mean my certain death." His voice has taken on a mocking tone, rage apparent in his eyes.

"Fell, I'm so sorry!" I apologize, guilt swelling up inside of me.

"Don't be. It was my suggestion," he responds angrily. Suddenly, he begins pounding on the elevator doors.

"I want to get out of here! I want to go home! I'm sick of this!" Fell screams. "I don't want to die," he finishes in a small voice. "I'm going to die. I'm going to die."

I can't think of anything comforting to do or say except to hug Fell until the doors slide open. "I'm sorry, Fell. I'm so, so sorry."

He looks at me with hollow eyes, and even though the Capitol is at fault, I can't seem to blame anyone but myself.

* * *

_**Voila!**_** How was it? Leave me a review giving me your opinion and requesting the next POV. I'm so excited for the next update. See you guys soon.**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	3. Training: Day 1

**Hello People of the World,**

**I hope all of you nonexistent reviewers out there enjoyed the last chapter. Now I'm back with Day 1 of Training.**

**Enjoy!**

Training: Day 1

_Fray Jennings- District 8_

"Eat up, Fray! Today is an _exciting _day," Marsha Hopkins, our escort bubbles in a tone that you would use when talking to a baby.

"I'm not hungry," I grumble, pushing my food around the plate with a spoon. That's not true, actually. I'm starving, but I feel so queasy that anything I put inside my body will just come right back up.

"But don't you _like_ the food here, Fray? You might never get to eat this again," Marsha pouts, sticking out her huge, surgically-enhanced bottom lip.

"Exactly!" I shout. "In a few days, I'm going to be dead! Don't you think that it's a little hard to eat when you're going into the Games as a tribute? You people from the Capitol think this is entertainment, but 23 of us are going to _die_! This isn't just some ridiculous television show! This is real people _actually_ dying!"

Marsha's head snaps back in surprise, making her purple wig bobble comically. "Fray, _darling_, am I going to have to tell the sponsors that you're being a _bad boy_?" She pouts again, and blinks her studded eyes for dramatic effect.

"Shut up, Marsha," my partner, Thread mutters. "Leave him alone."

"Well, then," Marsha sniffs. "I've _never_ seen tributes as rude as you two before! And here I am, trying to help you and get you some sponsors." She shakes her head sadly, making her wig tremble again.

"Marsha, Fray and I really appreciate what you're doing for us, but both of us are a little upset right now. We're just nervous for training, that's all," Thread amends, lying impressively.

I force myself to smile, and nod to agree with my partner. "Yes, I'm _very_ sorry."

"It's quite all right, dears. Now hurry! We wouldn't want you to be late for training, now would we?" Marsha cocks her head to the side and blinks her eyes again.

_What is with this woman?_ I think to myself, but manage to eat a piece of toast in small nibbles.

"Fray, I'm going to go down to the Training Center now," Thread informs me. I nod in acknowledgment and take a swig of pear juice before following her.

"I don't know how to use any weapons," Thread confides in me as we walk to the center. "And three days isn't really enough time to learn."

I'm about to respond sympathetically when we arrive, only to find everyone staring at us.

"Well, now that our last two tributes are here, we can begin," a peppy, blond woman announces. She begins explaining all of the different stations, bobbing her ponytail each time she needs to emphasize a point. I cling on to every word, working out in my mind which places I will visit first.

"Let's get started!" the lady cheers, clapping her hands. I start walking to the fire-building station when a huge teenage boy blocks my path.

"Listen up, twerp," he sneers, staring me down. "Thanks to you and your little girlfriend, we lost some precious training time. The instructor wouldn't let us start until everyone was here. And now, you're going to _pay_ for making the Careers wait!"

The boy, brings back his fist and hits me hard in the stomach. With a high-pitched yelp, I double over, gasping for breath. The Careers that have formed a group behind him smirk at me and saunter towards the weapon station.

Wheezing, I stagger to the closest station, which happens to be hand-to-hand combat. Just my luck.

The trainer spots me right away and flashes me a cruel smile.

"First, I'll teach you the basics, and then, we'll put your skills to the test," he declares, a triumphant grin on his face.

He goes over some basic blocks and punches, but his rippling muscles distract me. After what seems like five seconds, the trainer is squaring up to me. "Let's see what you got!" he shouts, throwing the first punch.

His fist collides with my already-aching stomach, but instead of making me cry out, the pain fuels me. With a strangled shout, I retaliate with a flurry of punches, not bothering to follow any techniques. The trainer puts his fists up to guard his face, but I simply kick him in the leg and bring him down.

Again, I attack him with my fists, feeling a rush of energy each time I connect with his skin. Finally, I back off, admiring the injuries I've inflicted.

"Not bad, kid," the trainer offers, but his smile is genuine.

"Thanks," I reply, and decide to go try out some weapons instead. From this little lesson that I've had with the trainer, I've figured out that I'm better at close-range combat where precision isn't too important. Since the Careers have already left the weapons to go do an obstacle course, I grab a short knife and find a practice dummy.

I slash and hack at the cloth, piercing the cheek, then the shoulder, then the thigh, and finally stabbing the stomach to deliver the fatal blow.

"Kid, I can practice with you," another trainer suggests, putting on protective gear and taking the same knife. She tosses me some padding so I won't get too badly hurt if things go wrong.

Taking a deep breath, I lunge at the woman, only to be blocked.

"You can do a little better!" she taunts, and jabs at my chest. I barely manage to stop her knife from piercing the gear, but decide to take advantage of the position she's in. I feign going for the woman's shoulder, and thrust my knife into her stomach while she's distracted.

"You're pretty clever," the trainer comments. "If I weren't wearing all of this, I'd be a goner."

* * *

"The Training Center will be closing in an hour!" someone calls over a loudspeaker.

_What skill should I try next?_ I wonder, and decide to study edible plants.

The trainer begins by showing me different pictures of plants, and asking me if I should eat it or not. By the time he's all out of pictures, I've barely gotten any right.

"Let me help you," a voice says. It is a small, pretty girl who has spoken. A shy smile is on her caramel-colored face, and she nervously twirls her dark ponytail.

"I'm Orchard Bentley from District 11," Orchard introduces herself. She sits down next to me and takes the berries from my fist into her delicate hands.

"You see, these berries have shiny pockets on the exterior, which is your first clue that their poisonous. They could be filled with fruit juice, but usually, sacs like these contain toxins. If you're still not sure if it's edible, prod it until some of the juices come out. If the liquid is dark in color, they're safe to eat. If not, stay away," Orchard discloses.

"Thanks," I respond gratefully, and pick up another berry.

"This girl's a natural!" The trainer is clearly impressed, which makes Orchard blush a little.

"It's nothing," she whispers, looking down.

I inspect the berry, which is smooth and round with no pockets whatsoever. To be certain, I poke the berry, spilling an almost black liquid.

"Edible!" I declare, glancing at Orchard for approval. She gives me a shining smile, pride reflecting in her eyes.

"You're a quick learner," she responds jubilantly. "I'd better get going now." With that, Orchard walks away, her ponytail swinging like a pendulum.

_I really like you, Orchard. It's too bad that I have to kill you to get home._

* * *

**So what did you think? Favorite, follow, and don't forget to review!**

**Cookies for anyone who reviews! (::)**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	4. Training: Day 2

**Hello People of the World,**

**I'm so excited because I just received my first reviews yesterday. Thank you to MissBunburyHope (you should go check out her amazing HG Fics) and Serenetie-Ishida for their lovely reviews. Cookies for both of you. (::) (::)**

**Both of you seemed to like Fray/ Orchard, so maybe we'll see an alliance forming between them...**

**Also, Serenetie-Ishida requested more POVs in each chapter, which I will try to do. She also said that she misses the reapings, so I might make mentions of them later on.**

**Again, THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE REVIEWS!**

**This chapter is dedicated to those two lovely people, so let's get to it!**

Training: Day 2

_Meadow Welsley- District 12_

For the fifth time in a row, the trainer corrects my fighting stance, clicking his tongue at me.

"Keep your feet set apart and your knees slightly bent," he reminds me, demonstrating the stance. Then he begins slashing the air with his sword, shuffling back and forth.

"Now you try." I imitate his position, and try to swing the heavy sword, but I cannot seem to lift it.

"Let's just move on for now," the trainer says hurriedly. "Go practice by the dummies." I make my way over to the line of dolls and position myself. Raising my arms, I attempt to hack at a dummy, but with my clumsy technique, the sword ends up hitting the ground instead of my target.

"I think I'll leave now," I mutter quietly, setting down the weapon and rushing away from the station. _What are you _good _at?_ I ask myself dejectedly.

Wistfully, I study the Careers, flawless in almost everything they do. Next to them, a slight girl shimmies up a false tree with ease. She then jumps out, lands gracefully, and whips out three knives. In a blur of her arm, the knives land in the center of a target with a _thud_.

I can't help but groan. I have no talents. We never learned to _do_ anything in District 12. And for that, I'm going to die.

_Warrior Fantao- District 2_

"Look at that pathetic girl watching us from over there!" Quarry snorts, pointing at a tiny tribute who I think is from Twelve. She glares menacingly at the girl and grabs a spear, twirling it between her fingers to show off. With a sadistic smile, Quarry launches the spear into the center of the target, staring at the girl the whole time.

"Quarry, don't waste your time scaring her. She's going to die in the Bloodbath anyway," I chide, taking a mace from the wall of weapons. With a battle cry, I smash the heavy metal into a row of dummies. Smirking, I examine the damage, pretty satisfied with myself.

"Warrior, I'm _bored_!" Topaz whines, bringing me back to earth. "I want to go recruit some tributes." She looks at me with big, sad eyes and blinks them.

"Fine," I grumble. "But that's only because I'm bored too."

"Yay!" Topaz cheers, clapping her hands. "Come on." Quarry rolls her eyes at me as if to say, "What a ditz!"

I can't say I disagree.

_Bull Oakley- District 10_

I'm bored to death as the trainer at hand-to-hand combat drones on an on about form and technique and all of that useless stuff. Finally, he says that it's time to try it out.

I bare my teeth at him as I study him. The trainer is probably in his mid-thirties; on the short side with well-defined muscles. This will be easy.

He throws the first punch, but I simply knock him out of the way. I ram into his shoulder, bringing him down. Immediately, he tries to stand up, but I grab him by his feet and lift him up.

Grinning, I start to slam him relentlessly against the mat, earning yelps of pain.

"Stop! Stop!" the trainer stammers as his head hits the mat yet again. With a victorious smile, I drop him onto the mat and walk away. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch some Peacekeepers rushing over to help the man, who has a dazed look on his face.

My chest swells in pride as I choose which station to go to next, but I'm rudely interrupted by this year's Career pack.

"Would you be interested in joining our alliance?" a brunette croons flirtatiously.

"Topaz, let me handle this," a tall, muscular girl intervenes, stepping in front of the brunette.

_Marina Welch- District 4_

"We just saw your fight with the trainer," I explain. "And we're very impressed."

"_So_ impressed!" Topaz gushes, clutching Bull's arm. This girl is making the whole Career alliance look weak.

"Someone, _get rid of her_," I hiss, turning back to Bull. "We wouldn't want talents like yours to got to waste, would we? Your best bet would be to join us." My voice is soft and soothing, and hopefully, persuasive.

For a moment, Bull scratches his neck, his small eyes scrunched up in thought.

Then, he speaks in a gruff voice. "I would... but I don't think I could deal with _her_." He gestures towards Topaz. Great. She's ruining our chances again.

"If you join, I'll make sure she dies in the Bloodbath," I promise in a low voice.

"No thanks. I think that an alliance would just weigh me down," Bull responds, getting ready to leave.

"Bull, please!" I beg. "If you stick with us, you'll get protection, food, supplies, and weapons!" I reason.

"I can take care of myself," Bull replies in a flat tone. He walks away, but not before shooting Topaz a disgusted look.

_Orchard Bentley- District 11_

"Hey, Orchard," a soft voice greets me.

"Fray!" I cry happily, turning to face him. His long, brown bangs are glued to his forehead with sweat, and his green eyes sparkle.

"I wanted to ask you something," Fray mumbles, looking down suddenly. I set aside the kindling I was using and look at him.

"Do you... do you?" he flounders. "Do you want to be allies?" Fray blurts, looking away again. For a second, I'm in shock, but I quickly regain my composure.

"Why would you want to ally with me?" I wonder aloud. "I'm only twelve."

"You can't be only twelve!" Fray gasps. "Why _wouldn't_ I want to ally with you? You have great survival instincts, you're a fantastic climber, and I've seen you throw those knives!"

I can feel my face heating up as Fray compliments me. Should I accept? Or will this alliance be what kills me?

"Fray, I think I'm going to say no," I say cautiously. His face falls. "I'd love to be a team, but if we were to survive, we'd have to kill each other eventually."

"Orchard, it doesn't have to be that way!" Fray protests.

"_Yes,_ it does, Fray! This is the Hunger Games!" I shout.

"Okay. I understand." His voice is so small and meek that I'm overwhelmed with guilt. "But if you change your mind, the offer is still open," Fray finishes.

"I'll think about it, Fray. I promise."

_Husk Rockwell- District 9_

I bury my face in my hands as my shelter collapses, the supports snapping.

"I don't think that would keep you warm," the person running the station sneers. "That's the most pathetic thing I've ever seen!"

"This is his first time! Leave him alone," a female voice orders. A skinny girl with stringy, red hair appears next to me, glaring fiercely at the trainer.

"I'm just telling the truth!" the trainer sniggers. To my astonishment, the girl picks up the beam of wood she was working with and swings it at the trainer. The wood hits him in the head, and he collapses to the ground, unconscious.

The girl doesn't look the least bit sorry, and she simply drags his limp body over to my failed shelter and hides him under the remnants.

"They'll find him later," the girl tells me airily. "I'm Circuit Fleming from District Three, and you're Husk Rockwell."

"How did you know that?" I inquire, impressed by this scrawny redhead.

"I'm observant," she shrugs, and gets back to making her shelter. It's a brilliant contraption that would blend in with the trees, yet looks uncharacteristically comfortable.

Before I can think, the words tumble out of my mouth. "Do you want to ally?"

With a grin, Circuit answers, "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

**Yay! We've got out first alliance! So what do you guys think of Circuit and Husk?**

**On a completely different note, I typed this entire chapter up today. I think this might be the fastest update we've had yet, but I don't know.**

**I hope you guys enjoyed. I tried the whole "multiple POVs" think. Tell me if it worked out, or if I should go back to one POV per chapter.**

**The next chapter will be the last day of training. Hopefully, most of the characters who haven't had POVs yet will get them, but no promises.**

**I'll see you guys soon!**

**After I write the chapter with all of the scores in it, I will post a poll for which character you think will win.**

**Once we start the Games, you guys will be able to sponsor tributes.**

**Until next time, Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	5. Training: Day 3

**Hello People of the World,**

**I am back with a BRAND NEW CHAPTER! This chapter is going to have more than one POV, but there are two characters that I want to focus on, so you will not get to see many characters. Don't worry, though. In the Private Sessions and the Interviews, you'll get POVs from everyone.**

**Without further ado, I present you...**

**The final day of Training!**

Training: Day 3

_Tide Watson- District 4_

This year's Career Alliance is probably going to fall apart soon after the Bloodbath. Topaz and Quarry are constantly fighting, Marina tries to get them to shut up, and Luster is busy complaining about anything and everything. And on top of that, we don't have any new recruits.

"Will you SHUT YOUR MOUTHS?!" Marina roars at the two other girls. They glare at her, and snicker when her arrows completely miss her target. Marina looks furious, but doesn't bother to yell at them.

Warrior makes a face, and beckons Luster and I.

"What do you need from Luster Blackwell?" Luster announces dramatically, striking a pose with his muscles flexed.

"I say we _accidently _kill Topaz in the Bloodbath," Warrior proposes quietly. Her district partner looks mortified, but I agree with a shake of my head.

"She's still a Career," Luster protests.

"If she's still being this annoying when the Games start, we're eliminating her," I state. "Now let's get some new recruits."

"Let's split up so we can get more people on our side," Luster suggests. Warrior and I both nod and before we get going, I add, "Only ask tributes that will be an asset, or that we can get deceive and murder easily."

* * *

_Luster Blackwell- District 1_

I cock my beautiful head to the side and look for a good tribute. _There._ The girl from District 5 looks promising. She's a slender blond that weaves through the obstacle course with ease, somersaults over to a dummy and stabs it in the heart with a wicked dagger.

I put on my most charming smile and stroll over to her.

"Hey, Gorgeous," I purr, running my fingers up and down her arm. The girl whips around, ready to stab me. "Relax, Gorgeous!"

"My _name_ is Surge!" she spits, yanking her arm away.

"No need to get defensive, _Surge_," I reply, taking Surge's hand and kissing it.

"What do you want, _One_?" Surge bristles, shaking me off. No matter. I'll win her over.

I make my smile even more brilliant before I respond. "Well, _Surge_, I was wondering if you wanted to join the Careers. We could use someone like you. And the name's Luster."

"No thank you, Luster," Surge says sweetly. "I need to train. Unless _you_ would prefer to be the target."

"There's no need for threats, sweetheart. Now, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?" I kiss her hand yet again.

"I would never ally with creeps like _you_ who kill for fun," Surge sneers. "Now, if you don't leave me alone, I'll stab you!"

"Surge, darling, there's no need for that. This is the opportunity of a lifetime." A hint of begging is creeping into my voice, and I hate it.

"Leave me alone, _creep!"_

* * *

_Surge Hallow- District 5_

"Or else?" Luster inquires, smirking.

"You don't want to find out," I reply vaguely. "But I'm giving you one last warning. Leave. Me. Alone."

"But darling, I _love _your company."

"I warned you," I remind him. He looks on curiously as I walk over to the camouflage station. Quickly, I crush up red berries and smear the blade with the juice. Luster is completely baffled, and I take advantage of his confusion. In a split second, I rip open my shirt, pour the juice on my skin, and scream as loudly as I can.

"Help!" I shriek, falling down. "Help, help, HELP!"

"Surge, what's wrong?" Luster's voice is panicked.

"Get away! Get away!" I shrill, kicking weakly at him. "He did this! He did this!"

Some Peacekeepers tackle Luster, and then swarm around me. "D5 down, D5 down," one relays into her radio.

"What happened?" a Peacekeeper inquires in a calm voice. I make myself cry and shudder, dipping my fingers into the juice on my skin and looking at them in shock.

"He... he.." I stammer, pointing weakly at Luster. "He asked me to be in his alliance, and when I refused, he _stabbed_ me!" I lie, sobbing. Mentally, I commend myself for great acting.

* * *

_Luster Blackwell- District 1_

"She's lying!" I shout, angry beyond belief. "I never stabbed _anyone_!"

"Yeah, right, One. You were the only one near her at the time, and the girl's bleeding!" a Peacekeeper snarls. "You're coming with us." They drag me unceremoniously out of the Training Center, crushing the curls that I worked so hard on this morning.

Surge turns away from the people around her and faces me. She smiles wickedly and waves at me mockingly.

I look at her threateningly. I will not let Surge get away with making me lose the last day of training. I will not let her get away with making me look like I have anger issues. She will not get away with anything. I will kill her in the Bloodbath. I will kill her. That much I know.

* * *

_Engine Franklin- District 6_

"It's quite simple, Six. You're making this way too complicated," the trainer at the fire-building station scolds.

Again, I make a pile of twigs and try to rub two sticks together to create a flame. She shakes her head and mutters, "Never mind. Let's just hope you get a box of matches in the Games."

I don't even bother getting mad about her comment, because I know it's true. I don't know how to use a weapon. I have zero survival skills. Worst of all, I cannot take someone else's life.

I just resign myself to the fact that I am not coming home and try to enjoy myself. However, the other tributes running, leaping and stabbing make that hard. Merely by watching them train, I fear for my life.

"Hey, Six!" someone yells. I turn my head to find myself looking at a Career. Great. I prepare myself to be bullied mercilessly, but am instantly proven wrong.

"I'm Warrior from District 2," the boy continues. "How would you like to join the Career Alliance?" I search his face for some sign of a joke, but he's completely serious.

"Are you talking to _me_?" I question stupidly.

"Yeah!" Warrior assures me. To my surprise, he claps me on the shoulder and gives me a friendly smile. "Look, bud. I may be a Career, but that doesn't mean I like killing. I've been watching you, and I know you're a good kid. You've probably got a family at home who misses you. So, I want you to join us. If you stick with the Careers, you've got a shot at coming home."

"Are you talking to _me_?" I repeat idiotically.

For a second, Warrior looks annoyed, but the friendly smile returns. "Bud, I don't know why this is such a surprise to you. I mean come on, who _wouldn't_ want to ally with you? You're great!"

"So _you've_ been watching _me_?" The suspicion is evident in my voice.

"Six, are you in, or not?" Warrior prompts. "I haven't got all day!"

"I'm in!" I chorus, almost jumping up and down. _Act cool, Engine. This guy respects you. Don't make him change his mind_.

"Great! I'll see you around, kid." Warrior struts away to join the rest of his alliance. _Our _alliance.

"Hey, Warrior!" I call as he leaves. He turns around. "Do I have to go to any Career meetings, or something like that?"

"Um, yeah..." Warrior says. "I'll let you know when we have our next meeting."

* * *

_Warrior Fantao- District 2_

"Warrior, did you get anyone?" Quarry inquires, flicking her spear at the target again.

"No one useful, but now we've got a Bloodbath tribute who trusts us," I report. "He's the little shrimp from Six. He's _mine_."

"Whoever gets to him first gets to kill him," Quarry responds airily.

"Fine, but that's still going to be me," I shoot back.

"Is that so?" Quarry angles her neck. "Because if I recall _correctly_, my obstacle course timing was exactly 94 milliseconds faster than yours."

"Is that a challenge, Quarry?" I growl, baring my teeth.

"What if it is, _Warrior_? Is the big, bad Career afraid of a little challenge?" I want to smash that smile off of her face.

"Well, maybe I'll murder both of you in the Bloodbath," I snarl.

"Ooh, I'm _shivering_!" Quarry mocks me. "But I know you, Mr. Fantao. You wouldn't _dare_ kill me. Without me, there _is_ no Career Alliance.

"Well, why don't we put that theory to the test, _Miss Jacobs_?"

"Because I'll kill you first." Her tone is icy now. "Now, just imagine that target is you, Warrior." She gestures towards a target with her spear. In a flash, her spear hits the center and she faces me with a triumphant smile.

"I'm going to win, Warrior, because I _never_ miss."

* * *

**Okay, I apologize for the long time between updates. I'm sorry, I've been very busy. Speaking of being busy, I'm going on vacation tomorrow night, so I may or may not update while I'm away. I will try to get a chapter up by tomorrow, but that's a stretch. If not, I will try my absolute hardest to post something during my vacation.**

**So enough about my personal life! Let's talk Hunger Games!**

**So this chapter is pretty dramatic, if I do say so my self. We've got a bunch of death threats, a Career taken out of training, and a kid who _thinks_ he's one of the Careers now.**

**What will happen next? To find out, tune in to the next episode of An Illusion! And by that, I mean review, follow, and favorite.**

**Until next time,**

**Happy Hunger Games!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	6. Sneak Preview: The Private Sessions

**Hello People of the World,**

**As you may know (if you read my Author's Notes), I'm going on vacation today, and between last-minute packing and other stuff, I know that I'm not going to have enough time write a full chapter. Still, I feel bad for leaving you guys with nothing, especially since the updates will be very irregular while I'm away.**

**Since I'm feeling bad, I've prepared a sneak preview of what the next chapter will be about. Hope you guys don't hate me too much!**

Sneak Preview

_Cherokee Winters- Head Gamemaker_

I idly paint my long nails with another layer of red polish as I wait to be summoned to the Training Center. Studying my nails, I smile. They are precisely the color of the blood I will enjoy spilling this year, and hopefully many more to come. I purse my lips of the same shade and blow to dry the polish. Perfect. Simply stunning. This makeup makes me look the part of Head Gamemaker, and I love it.

A harsh buzzer sounds, and a voice fills my room. "Miss Cherokee Winters, Head Gamemaker, is required in the Training Center immediately. Miss Cherokee Winters, report to the Training Center immediately."

_Finally_, I think to myself excitedly. Knowing that I will have to sit through many private sessions until our meal arrives, I pop a small snack into my mouth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. I'm ready. I'm ready to give these children the scores that may very well be the difference between life and death.

I check my reflection as I walk through the halls to make sure that my lips are positioned in a sadistic, yet enticing way. The tributes will positively tremble before me, and I will enjoy every second of it.

* * *

_Luster Blackwell- District 1_

A tiny lady with a headset comes up to me and whispers, "You're up." I practice my winning smile on her before swooping into the room where the rest of the Gamemakers are.

"Hello everyone! I'm Luster Blackwell," I declare. The Gamemakers simply stare at me.

"Go on then," the women seated in the middle responds rudely. I take a deep breath. _Don't mess up, Luster. That will only give Surge more satisfaction._

I take off running towards the obstacle course and complete it in record timing. When I come out at the end, I flip off of it and land at the weapons station. Grinning devilishly, I snatch a wicked sword and quirk an eyebrow at the trainers, challenging one of them to duel with me.

A buff man steps forward, grabbing the same weapon. "This will be easy," I taunt, jabbing at him. He blocks, much like I expected, but I have some tricks up my sleeve. I shuffle backwards, brandishing my weapon. I act as if I'm waiting for the trainer to attack, and then shoot forward with lightning speed.

He falters for a split-second while stopping my blade, but that's all I need. In a flash, his sword is on the ground, and mine is pointed at his throat. The trainer's expression is one of shock, as if he didn't expect to be beaten so easily. Well, I showed him.

"I win," I sing-song, and turn around to face the Gamemakers. They all look impressed.

Before I leave, I can't resist throwing my sword at a target. The point pierces the exact center. My smile gets even bigger, if that's possible.

* * *

**That was actually a pretty long sneak preview, and I typed it up in a short amount of time. What do you know? You still might get that chapter I promised.**

**But for me to finish and post this chapter by the end of the day, I need some reviews! So please take a few seconds of your time to leave me a comment! It really makes my day.**

**So how did you like this chapter/ preview? What did you think of the POVs? What score should Luster get? I may use some of the scores I get in reviews, so type what you think he deserves in that little box down there.**

**Don't forget to review for a super-speedy update, and I'll see you guys next time!**

**Bye!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	7. The Private Sessions: Part 1

**Hello People of the World,**

**I am just about to leave for vacation, but I am speed-typing this and trying to get it posted. Please bear with me for any typos and mistakes, but I'm rushing to get this up for you guys. Hope you love it!**

Private Sessions: Part One

_Cherokee Winters- Head Gamemaker_

I idly paint my long nails with another layer of red polish as I wait to be summoned to the Training Center. Studying my nails, I smile. They are precisely the color of the blood I will enjoy spilling this year, and hopefully many more to come. I purse my lips of the same shade and blow to dry the polish. Perfect. Simply stunning. This makeup makes me look the part of Head Gamemaker, and I love it.

A harsh buzzer sounds, and a voice fills my room. "Miss Cherokee Winters, Head Gamemaker, is required in the Training Center immediately. Miss Cherokee Winters, report to the Training Center immediately."

_Finally_, I think to myself excitedly. Knowing that I will have to sit through many private sessions until our meal arrives, I pop a small snack into my mouth and wash it down with a gulp of wine. I'm ready. I'm ready to give these children the scores that may very well be the difference between life and death.

I check my reflection as I walk through the halls to make sure that my lips are positioned in a sadistic, yet enticing way. The tributes will positively tremble before me, and I will enjoy every second of it.

* * *

_Luster Blackwell- District 1_

A tiny lady with a headset comes up to me and whispers, "You're up." I practice my winning smile on her before swooping into the room where the rest of the Gamemakers are.

"Hello everyone! I'm Luster Blackwell," I declare. The Gamemakers simply stare at me.

"Go on then," the women seated in the middle responds rudely. I take a deep breath. _Don't mess up, Luster. That will only give Surge more satisfaction._

I take off running towards the obstacle course and complete it in record timing. When I come out at the end, I flip off of it and land at the weapons station. Grinning devilishly, I snatch a wicked sword and quirk an eyebrow at the trainers, challenging one of them to duel with me.

A buff man steps forward, grabbing the same weapon. "This will be easy," I taunt, jabbing at him. He blocks, much like I expected, but I have some tricks up my sleeve. I shuffle backwards, brandishing my weapon. I act as if I'm waiting for the trainer to attack, and then shoot forward with lightning speed.

He falters for a split-second while stopping my blade, but that's all I need. In a flash, his sword is on the ground, and mine is pointed at his throat. The trainer's expression is one of shock, as if he didn't expect to be beaten so easily. Well, I showed him.

"I win," I sing-song, and turn around to face the Gamemakers. They all look impressed.

Before I leave, I can't resist throwing my sword at a target. The point pierces the exact center. My smile gets even bigger, if that's possible.

* * *

_Topaz Barton- District 1_

Luster shoots me a confident smile as we pass each other. I take a deep breath and put on a brilliant smile before walking into the Training Center.

"Hello! I'm Topaz Barton, your soon-to-be Victor," I chirp, hoping they won't be offended. A man scribbles something down on a sheet of paper and frowns at me. I try not to let that bother me, and keep the smile on my face.

"Today, I'll be showing you my skill with knives," I begin, putting on the vest that contains my ideal weapon. My fingers are trembling as they search through the pockets for the perfect knife. I shakily close my fist around a small, slender knife and face the target.

"Hurry up!" someone calls irritably. Bristling, I release the knife, and almost start crying when I see that it's far from a bulls-eye.

I force myself to continue, and launch the rest of the knives. The rest of them are all perfect throws. The Gamemakers have a variety of expressions on their faces, from smirks to kind smiles.

_It was only one knife_, I remind myself as I curtsy and exit. _And that wasn't even my fault_.

* * *

_Warrior Fantao- District 2_

An attendant signals for me to enter the room, and I immediately get out of my seat. Butterflies erupt in my stomach when I see the panicked look on Topaz's face.

_Calm down, Warrior. You're just insulting yourself by comparing Topaz to you_. Grinning, I enter, and head straight to my favorite mace.

"Warrior Fantao," I state, spinning the familiar weapon expertly. "Who's interested in being crushed?" I scan the crowd of trainers. All of them are wearing gear, so I can hit them without holding back. Smiling, I point to the largest trainer of the bunch.

"Don't worry. I'll make this quick," I mock him as he takes another mace. The trainer swings his weapon as hard as he can at me, but I leap nimbly out of the way. Not bothering to draw my victory out, I attack instantly, my mace connecting with his abdomen. The trainer crumples at my feet, and I spin around to face the Gamemakers.

"I think we're done here," I comment coolly, dropping the mace and strolling towards the exit. The Head Gamemaker nods at me and writes something down.

_That better be a twelve_, I think.

* * *

_Quarry Jacobs- District 2_

Warrior comes out of the room practically beaming. As I brush past him, he looks at me as if to say, _"_Beat _that_."

_Relax, Quarry. Warrior would look like that even if his performance deserved a one_, I reassure myself. I am better than him, and I will make that clear.

"Hello," I begin. "I'm Quarry, and I'm about to show you something that deserves a twelve." The Gamemakers seem to sneer at me. I ignore them. It's just me and the targets.

Ridding my face of any emotions, I grab the spears. Scanning the room hungrily, I go over to a certain part of the obstacle course and hit the "on" button.

I hoist myself onto a moving platform and put all of the spears except for one into a rack on the side. I punch the button again, and several platforms come to life. I leap onto each one, spearing the designated targets in the center each time and then taking another spear. I struggle to make my moves seem effortless, but I'm becoming tired. The timer on the side tells me I have seven seconds left. I concentrate on landing flawlessly on each platform, since there are no targets left.

Just as the buzzer rings, the platform I'm on jerks, and I stumble. However, I react with lightning speed and convert my mistake into a beautiful flip onto the ground. The Gamemakers don't seem to notice my mess-up, but I bow my head and stride out before they can say or do anything else.

_If my score isn't better than Warrior's, I think I'm going to die_.

* * *

**I'm terribly sorry if this chapter was bad, but I kept getting interrupted while typing it because of last-minute packing and other vacation stuff.**

**But nevertheless, here's the chapter. I hope you liked it! What do you know? We got a sneak preview AND the full chapter in today! Maybe I should go on vacation more often! :P**

**Please leave me a review telling me what you did and didn't like. Also, I would not mind at all if you left me some suggestions for scores for these tributes.**

**You'll hopefully be seeing more Private Sessions soon, but I really have to go.**

**BYE!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	8. Private Sessions: Part 2

**Hello People of the World,**

**I'm currently on vacation, but all of your lovely 25 reviews have convinced me to type this up. I got lots of constructive criticism (which I love), so I'm going to try to make my writing better.**

**A few mistakes have been brought to my attention, so I will let you know when some previous chapters get updated and revised. Also, I will begin putting a list of all of the tributes at the beginning of each chapter, so when you see lots of words for each new chapter, that's why. :P**

**Let's begin!**

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

Private Sessions: Part 2

_Fuse Browning- District 3_

Cold sweat pours down my back as I walk slowly towards the door. The girl from District 2 gives me a sinister smile, making me shudder. _Focus, Fuse. You need to figure out what to show the Gamemakers._

The huge doors swing open, and then slam shut once I enter. My breathing quickens, and I start to tremble.

"Fuse Browning," I squeak, looking around the room for something that I'm not terrible at. Trying to calm my shaking hands, I mentally prepare myself to climb a fake tree. _Breathe in. Breathe out_.

My fingers dig into the realistic bark, and I pull myself upwards. Still telling myself how to breathe, I scrabble for places to rest my hands and feet. The Gamemakers' snickering in the background is almost enough to make me lose my grip, but I will not give them the satisfaction.

_Breathe in. Breathe out._ The thought of being a few yards from the top brings a smile to my face, and I wrap my hands around another branch. As I clamber upwards, my feet suddenly slip off of the tree, leaving me dangling by my arms off of a branch 60 feet up in the air.

Mustering all of my strenght, I swing myself and cross my feet to mirror my hands. As I search for a way to get out of this awkward position, I can feel my fingers sliding down against the smooth plastic of the tree. Tears prick my eyes, and I let go of the tree to wipe them away.

In that one second, I can feel my heart drop to the floor as I freefall out of the tree. _I'm going to die. I'm going to die._ All too soon, my body comes in contact with the floor, and I can feel the impact vibrating throughout my bones. For what seems like an eternity, I lay there, knowing that the Gamemakers will give me a disgustingly low score, and I will be killed in the Bloodbath.

Finally, I force myself to stand up, and thank the Gamemakers for their time. Slowly, I hobble to the exit, wanting nothing more than to curl up and realize that this is all a dream.

* * *

_Circuit Fleming- District 3_

It is my turn. _My turn_. Finally, I will get to show the Gamemakers that Careers aren't the only ones not afraid to kill. I will show them my skills, and finally, no one will doubt me. I practically skip past Fuse in my hurry to stand in front of the Gamemakers.

Once the doors close behind me, a smile erupts on my face. I dance over to the shelter station, and in no time, have a comfortable home that would be virtually undetectable in a forest. The Head Gamemaker nods her head to dismiss me, but I'm nowhere near finished.

Next, I speed towards the edible plants station and handpick all of the poisonous ones. In a flash, I crush them up and put them in a flask. Not able to help myself, I grin at the Gamemakers and swirl around my homemade poison. The Head Gamemaker has a hint of a smile on her face.

Finally, I end at the weapons station. I take a small dagger and hide it in my sleeve before turning around to face a dummy. Contorting my face into an expression of fear, I make tears roll down my face.

"Please don't kill me! Please! No!" I wail at the doll. In an instant, the blade goes from inside my jacket to inside the dummy's heart.

"That will be all. Thank you," I tell the Gamemakers, a satisfied smile on my face. With that, I walk out of the room, feeling extremely confident. These Games belong to me. I will be the Victor.

* * *

_Tide Watson- District 4_

The girl from Three saunters past me, looking even more elated than Quarry. _What could _she _be so proud of_? I wonder. Dismissing the question, I step into the room with the Gamemakers. The girl from Three doesn't matter. This is my time to shine.

"Since I'm a Career, I know how to handle weapons, and all of that stuff. But besides killing, survival is pretty important too. So today, I'm going to show you the survival aspect of the Games," I explain, strolling over to the area I've spent most of my training in.

My beefy fingers are surprisingly nimble when it comes to tying knots and making nets, which I display with a smirk on my face. I quickly complete a net and demonstrate how to catch fish... and a tribute.

The Gamemakers still don't look impressed, though. Sighing, I grab a knife and march over to a line of dummies. With a shout, I strike and hack them all to bits. I glare at the Gamemakers as if to say, "Are you happy now?".

The Head Gamemaker stares at me with an unfathomable expression. "You can leave now," she hisses, pursing her red lips.

I storm out, wanting more than anything to plunge my knife into her stomach. _Calm down, Tide. There will be plenty of time to do that in the Games._

* * *

_Marina Welch- District 4_

Tide looks even more angry than usual when he comes out of the room, which makes me nervous. Instantly, my mind scolds me and tells me to be confident. I decide to heed my own advice, and put on a self-satisfied grin before entering the room.

My eyes zoom in on the gorgeous bow that I've been using in training, and my smile widens. In a few large strides, I reach the spectacular weapon and string an arrow. Instead of aiming at a circular target, I walk over to a human cutout that is used for knife practice.

"I hope you don't mind," I say in a sweet voice as I pull back my bowstring. With a _twang_, the arrow buries itself in the stomach of the fake human. I reposition my bow and shoot an arrow directly into the heart. The last one pierces the skull.

The Gamemakers clap politely, but I decide to demonstrate another skill. My fingers find themselves holding a sword, and I twirl the weapon expertly. With a scream, I plunge the blade into the stomach of a dummy. The stuffing spills out onto the floor, _almost_ as satisfying as blood.

"I'm Marina Welch. You'd do best not to forget me." Though threatening the Gamemakers is risky, I decide to anyway, and flounce out of the room. The entire time, the smirk has not left my face.

* * *

_Buzz Diomede- District 5_

My mind wanders as I walk into the room with the Gamemakers inside. For some reason, I've never been able to focus when I'm nervous. That's probably not the best quality to posess while going into the Hunger Games, but there's nothing I can do about it now.

"I'm Buzz and..." I quickly trail off, thinking of the bubble bath I'm going to have tonight. I force myself to concentrate. I nod at the Gamemakers and go off to build a trap. My hands fumble with twigs and string as I construct the snare.

_I wonder what Mom's making for dinner tonight,_ I think. The snap of one of my twigs brings me back to reality. My snare is all wrong, but I don't feel like going back to fix it. _I hope she's making chili. I love chili._

I can't think. Too many thoughts swirl around my head, none of which relate to the contraption I'm trying to make. I drop the tools that I'm working with and clutch my head, trying to slow down the spinning. It's no use though, and I end up just wanting to go to sleep. I set aside my half-finished trap and stand up.

"Thank you for the chili," I mumble, and run out of the room.

* * *

**Sorry for not updating in a while. I know that I didn't finish D5, but that will be in the next update. Tell me guys if you think these sessions are getting boring, because I'd be more than happy to just skip to the scores. The next couple of updates will also be pretty spacy like this one, so please bear with me.**

**I have to go now, so bye!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	9. Author's Note

**Hello People of the World,**

**I know you're probably going to groan when you see that the title of this chapter is Author's Note. I know I haven't updated in FOREVER, and unfortunately, that is going to continue. I am studying really hard right now, and there is no extra time for writing. Please don't think I'm abandoning this story! I know that you guys are probably annoyed at me, but a new, extra-long chapter should be posted on the 17th or 18th. Again, I'm so sorry. I hope you understand.**

**Bye,**

**~LT**

**P.S. If you review my story, I will possibly give you guys a much sooner update. The choice is yours!**


	10. Private Sessions: Part 3

**Hello People of the World,**

**I hope you enjoy this super-long update (which may be up sooner than you think) and leave me some beautiful reviews. My first ever FanFic (a Harry Potter Fic) got 42 reviews. Help me top that!**

**Anyway, I'm not going to waste time with a long Author's Note. Let's get started!**

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

Private Sessions: Part 3

_Surge Hallow- District 5_

Buzz stumbles past me, mumbling nonsensically. I quickly spring up from my seat and walk past him, keeping my eyes trained on the door that separates me from the Gamemakers. I pass Luster along the way, and he reaches out a hand to stop me.

A threatening smile is on his face as he surveys me. "Good luck, _Surge_. You're going to need it," Luster purrs warningly, removing his hand from my path.

Trying not to show my discomfort, I brush past him and enter the room.

"Surge Hallow, District 5," I introduce myself, my fingers already closed around a familiar dagger. "I need a partner."

Right away, a young woman steps forward, taking a matching weapon. Her eyes scan me as she bounces from foot to foot. I force myself to calm down, and make an attempt to stab at my partner.

With ease, she dances away, and strikes with an inhuman speed at my leg. I barely manage to dodge her blade, stumbling backwards. Without warning, the woman's leg sweeps under my feet knocking me down.

Panic clouds my mind as she sprints towards me, wielding the dagger. Right as the lady is about to end the fight, my reflexes kick in. With a desperate cry, I somersault past her blade and dig my dagger into the back of her knee. The trainer collapses, and I waste no time in sinking my weapon into the padding protecting her abdomen.

Struggling to keep from panting, I replace the dagger and hurry out, muttering a quick "thank you" along the way. As I return to my seat, Luster leers at me, as if he had seen my less than stellar performance.

Scowling at him, I sit down next to Buzz, turning away. My heart is racing, knowing that my score will not be satisfactory. _Calm down, Surge. It's over,_ I remind myself, tapping my toes nervously.

* * *

_Engine Franklin- District 6_

All too soon, it is my turn to show my skills, and I find myself stumbling into the same room as the Gamemakers. They all look expectantly at me, signaling for me to begin. There is only one problem. I have nothing for them to see.

For what seems like an eternity, I stand in front of them, blinking stupidly. Anxiety seems to hold me in place and I can't move my feet.

With a sigh, the Head Gamemaker presses a button on her armrest. "Please send the food," she says curtly.

Her words seem to mobilize me, and I quickly walk to the cluster of stations. _What should I do? What should I do?_ I think frantically. Not wanting to annoy the Gamemakers further, I quickly decide to build a fire.

My fingers scrabble through the supplies, making a pile of wood and kindling. In the background, I can hear the sound of food being served. Gritting my teeth, I add the finishing touches.

Laughter reaches my ears, accompanied by people clinking glasses. Finally, my fire lights, and the flames engulf the rest of the wood.

I turn around to look at the Gamemakers. Most of them only glance occasionally at me, too preoccupied with their food. To my relief, the Head Gamemaker seems to be watching me at least.

"You may leave," she instructs, raising a glass of wine to her lips and taking a sip. Swallowing hard, I nod and exit the room. At the last second, I turn around and catch sight of my successful fire. I allow myself a small smile. _I guess the training lady was wrong._

* * *

_Road Nelson- District 6_

I force myself to take deep breaths and put one foot in front of the other. Somehow, my wobbling legs carry me inside the room. To my surprise, the Gamemakers are all shouting and laughing while eating gourmet food.

"Road Nelson," I announce timidly. A lady with green hair giggles and smashes her wine glass. Trying to ignore the people around me, I go to the stations. In three days, I haven't discovered any extraordinary skills, so I decide to try some throwing knives.

My hands awkwardly encircle a knife, and I focus on a target. I throw the weapon, only to have it sail right past the target. Several Gamemakers laugh cruelly at my attempt. Blocking out the noise, I chuck another one, and it hits one of the outer rings. I throw all of them, and surprise myself by actually ending up fairly close to the center.

I smile proudly at the Gamemakers, but none of them are paying attention. Hoping that they saw my good throws, I replace the knives and hurry out, taking deep breaths.

"Who names their kid _Road_?" someone chortles from behind me. My face flushes in embarrassment, and I'm glad that my back is turned to them.

_Who dyes their hair _green_? _I retort inwardly. Still slightly angry, I sit down heavily in my seat next to Engine.

_I guess we _do _have pretty weird names._

* * *

_Fell Marshall- District 7_

"Fell, good luck," Sap whispers to me when I'm called up. I nod to her, and am suddenly attacked by a hug.

"Honestly, Sap! I'm going to be fine," I sigh, but her caring attitude makes me feel better.

"I know you will," she replies in a quiet voice. "But I don't want to be alone. Her brown eyes are filling up with tears, and I find myself wanting to comfort my thirteen-year-old partner.

Again, Sap squeezes me, visibly crying now. "Hey, you're not going to be alone. We're going to be an alliance," I tell her, surprised that I didn't think of it earlier. "But I really need to go. It's just going to be for fifteen minutes."

Sap smiles at me and releases me, allowing me to rush into the Training Center.

"Fell Marshall from Seven," I declare, surveying the wall of weapons. My eyes immediately focus on two axes, but I tell myself not to take them. _That's what they would expect from a District 7 tribute. You need to be different._

Instead, I pick up a sword, hoping that the slicing action will be the same as with an axe. "A partner, please?" I inquire, sounding much more confident than I feel. Seconds later, I find myself squaring up to a muscular man that's twice the size I am.

With a grunt, he throws his entire body weight at me, slashing at the air. I leap backwards, escaping the blade by a few millimeters. Summoning all of my strength from years of chopping wood, I bring the sword down on the trainer's back. The sword was much lighter than I had expected, and the excess energy I had used slices straight through the padding and into his skin.

Blood trickles out of the wound, but I keep myself from asking if the trainer is okay. _In the Hunger Games, you're _supposed_ to kill people_, I remind myself.

Instead, I let go of the sword and let it clatter to the ground.

"I think you need thicker padding," I say coolly, sauntering out of the room. I feel disgusted with myself. I injured someone and didn't care if they were alright. I was cocky and arrogant. I was acting like a Career. The Games are already changing me.

* * *

_Sap Martin- District 7_

As soon as I see Fell leave the room, I stand up. When he gets closer, I scan his face. Fell's mouth is curving downwards, and his eyes seem to be burning.

His expression adds to my uncertainty, but he seems to immediately sense that. "Sap, nothing went wrong. You'll be fine," Fell reassures me, embracing me hurriedly.

_Stop being so _nice_, Fell! Don't you know that only one person can come out alive?_ I scream mentally. _Sap, you _were_ the one who was practically crying. That's the only reason he allied with you_.

"I know," I respond boldly, pushing all of my conflicting opinions away. With that, I walk past him and through the door.

Refusing to let my insecurities get the better of me, I spit, "Sap Martin," at the Gamemakers. I don't think they've heard me over the loudness in the room, but I don't care. I'm not repeating myself.

My legs take me to the tallest tree in the room, and I feel the bark for a second. It feels like home. Grunting, I push myself off the ground and start climbing. The rough surface against my skin sends memories spinning through my mind. I can almost feel Birch's calloused hands tugging at my ankles.

_"You're not getting away from me!"_ he seems to tease, insistent on dragging me downwards.

"No!" I scream aloud, wrenching my feet away from Birch's imaginary hands. Seeing his bloody face swim in front of my eyes, I scale the tree as fast as I possibly can.

_The Capitol took Birch. Don't let them take you, too,_ I warn myself, gripping the last branch. I haul myself upwards, feeling the skin on my hands turning red. My fingers touch the top of the tree at last, and I immediately begin the descent.

With ease, I shimmy down, concentrating on the pain in my hands. The sharp sensation helps me focus on reality. All of a sudden, my feet connect with the ground again.

_"Got you!" _Birch sing-songs, capturing my small hands with his. But then, the skin on his face slits open, staining his skin red.

Gasping, I pull away and run out of the room as fast as I can. Still, Birch's voice pursues me.

_"Come back here, missy!"_

I speed up until I'm at my seat. Placing my feet on the chair, I bury my head in my knees. His voice is still there.

"Sap, you're okay," Fell tells me, giving me a hug. I only wish that I could believe that.

* * *

_Fray Jennings- District 8_

The tiny girl from Seven rushes out of the room, immediately curling up in her chair. Tears stain her face as she rocks back and forth. _What did they do to her?_ I ask myself frantically. _Ignore her, Fray. She has nothing to do with you_, my inner voice tells me.

Jerkily, I rise from my seat and make my way past the tributes and in through the door. My eyes scan the room and take in the sight of dirty plates and drunk Gamemakers.

_This should be fun_, I say sarcastically to myself. "Fray Jennings." The commanding tone in my voice seems to turn a few heads my way.

"Fray rhymes with hay!" a tiny old man sings. "Fray! Hay! Hay! Fray!" With that, he falls asleep, and his face falls into his plate. Scowling, I pick up the blade that I've grown accustomed to.

With a cocky smile, I beckon the trainer that I practiced with a few days ago. She returns my smirk and tightens her ponytail.

"I won't go easy on you, Fray," the trainer taunts, laughing. Out of nowhere, her knife comes at my chest. I manage to block her, but the force of her swing knocks my weapon clear out of my hands. Without missing a beat, I plow into the trainer, knocking her to the ground.

My limbs batter her thin frame mercilessly, causing her to gasp with pain.

"I'll take that," I tell the trainer with a smile, wrenching the knife from her fist. I pin her to the ground and sink the blade into the stomach area.

She shakily gets up, gawking at me. With disbelief, the trainer pulls the knife out of her gear. "Good luck, Fray," she whispers. "I'll make sure you get a worthy score."

I grin at her kindness and walk out of the room. The Careers scrutinize me, but I merely return their glares and stride past them.

Instinctively, I turn my head towards where Orchard is seated. She smiles at me, her innocent eyes looking into mine.

_Please change your mind, Orchard. I need an ally_, I mentally tell her. Orchard simply smiles again and turns away.

* * *

_Thread Simon- District 8_

_What do I do? What do I show them?_ I ask myself on my way into the room. For the duration of the previous sessions, I have been contemplating my demonstration. However, I haven't thought of anything to do.

Immediately, my eyes flit to the knot-tying station. Perfect.

"Thread Simon from Eight," I announce, walking to the practice ropes. My fingers have become nimble from years of working in the factory, and a smile appears on my face as I work.

I hum to myself as I weave a large net for trapping fish. _Over, under. Over, under._ At one point, I make an incorrect stitch and have to start again. I continue to hum as my fingers work. Before me appears an almost perfect net, growing at a satisfying pace. As the rope comes to an end, I tie three hefty knots.

I ask a young woman to test out my net. I throw the contraption over her and yank on it. She loses her balance and falls over. As predicted, the trainer flails around, trying to free herself. She tangles herself further until she is basically immobilized.

A round of applause meets my ears. Beaming, I turn around to face them.

"And now, to free her!" I call. With a flourish, I unwind my creation, liberating her. The trainer stands up and hurries back to where the rest of the trainers are standing.

"Thank you very much for your time," I say, curtsying. Before I leave, I undo the knots. _Under, over. Under, over. _In a few minutes, my beautiful net is returned to a heap of ropes.

"Thank you," I repeat. I hurry out of the room, rubbing my hands together.

"How did it go?" Fray asks when I sit down next to him.

"Well. Very well," I reply. He nods at me politely.

_Very, _very_ well_.

* * *

**So that's the chapter! I tried really hard to finish all of the sessions in this chapter, but I couldn't do it. I'm sorry! I hope you enjoyed!**

**ANNOUNCEMENT: I am not going to update this story until it gets to 42 reviews or more. If you don't know why, read the A/N at the top.**

**REVIEW!**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	11. Private Sessions: Part 4

**Hello People of the World!**

**I must say, I am a bit disappointed in your reviewing skills. It took me much longer than I thought to reach 42 reviews, but I won't plague you with complaints. Instead, I'm going to give you guys a nice, decent-sized update to inspire you to type me a little message. :P**

**Anyways, lets begin. ****_At the end of the chapter will be another important Author's Note with two big announcements, so please read that! _****Without further ado, the final part of the Private Sessions! *wipes sweat from forehead***

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

Private Sessions: Part 4

_Husk Rockwell- District 9_

Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours as I wait for my turn. The whole time, my fists and jaw are clenched, making it easy to see my nervousness.

What have I learned in a grain district that will impress the Gamemakers? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Finally my name is called. Robotically, I stand up and enter the room.

"Husk Rockwell." As I face the stations, an idea pops into my mind. At home, it was always my responsibility to cook our grain quota and the tesserae. I will show them my ability to cook a nutritious meal out of meager ingredients. After all, it isn't called the _Hunger_ Games for nothing.

The edible plants station contains some wheat and rice, which I immediately put into a pile. Next, I take some rocks from the shelter station. Finally, I carry all of my supplies to the fire-building area. I pause to grin at the Gamemakers before starting a fire. As the flames begin to catch, I grind the grain with the rocks.

In a few minutes, I start to warm my ground up grain over the fire, adding water periodically. I end up with a mushy meal of grain, which I present to the Gamemakers.

My face reddens as I hold my creation up next to their gourmet food. A few people wrinkle their noses at me. Determined to save myself from embarrassment, I shovel some of the mush into my mouth, uttering an enthusiastic "Yum!". Within a few minutes, I have eaten it all.

Self-consciously, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Turning my back to the Gamemakers again, I extinguish the fire. Giving them a winning smile, I bow and leave.

I just hope they didn't hate me too much.

* * *

_Grain Kingsley- District 9_

Anxiously, I twirl my braid and tap my toes as I wait. I count each minute, my eyes flickering to the large clock constantly. I want this to be over. I want this all to be over. I don't want to die.

Unfortunately, my name is soon called. Tremulously, I stand up and scurry into the room. A flood of dread fills me as I enter. This whole time, I've been focusing on the time. I haven't thought of anything to show the Gamemakers.

Instinctively, I walk over to the station of weapons and grab the tiniest knife. The small blade is similar to the one that Mom uses in the kitchen. A few times, she let me cut an onion, but I ended up with a bleeding thumb.

Pushing away that experience, I tighten my grip on the blade. _Now, what do I do with this?_ I think stupidly. It's definitely too small to fight with, but I'd probably make a fool of myself if I tried to throw it.

Taking a deep breath, I decide to throw it at a target. Out of nervousness, I drop the knife as I face the target. Laughter comes from behind me, coloring my cheeks. _Ignore them, Grain._ Gritting my teeth, I heave the knife as hard as I can.

It lands several feet short of the target, bringing an onslaught of giggles. Ready to cry, I pick up the blade and throw it again. I get the same result, but end up slightly closer to where I was aiming. The laughter has become a constant background noise by now, making my vision blur with tears.

_Only one more shot, Grain. Then you're done_, I promise myself.

"How old is this girl? Six?" a Gamemaker hoots, draining his glass, only to have it immediately refilled by an Avox. The tears that I've been trying so hard to hold back surface all at once. The hot droplets blind me, washing my cheeks. _One more shot._

With a small grunt, I chuck the small weapon, not bothering to aim. My ears pick up a soft _thunk_, letting me know that I've hit something. Not daring to believe it, I wipe my eyes. A proud smile creeps onto my face. It wasn't a bulls-eye, but the knife is buried in the middle ring.

Almost laughing with glee, I yank it out of the fabric.

"Grain Kingsley," I tell them, curtsying before I leave. Hopefully, they won't forget me.

* * *

_Bull Oakley- District 10_

To pass the time as I wait, I focus on making my grin as confident and brutish as possible. I make eye contact with several weaklings and crack my knuckles. Sure, it's cliché and unnecessary, but it makes my self-esteem soar.

"Bull Oakley," the person with the clipboard calls. I bare my teeth and flex my muscles, replying, "That's me."

Making sure my smile is in place, I stride into the room. Nobody bothers to even glance at me. Thoroughly insulted, I bellow, "Bull Oakley!"

Several pairs of eyes look at me. Good. "Which one of you wimps is ready to go down?" I roar, knowing that I'm overdoing the whole "macho and touch" act. At the moment, I really don't care.

The Head Gamemaker gestures towards five or six trainers standing off to the side.

"Why don't I take all of these losers at once?" I suggest daringly. Not waiting for them to come to me, I rush towards them. I barrel through the first three, knocking them to the ground. The fourth one steps out of the way, but one punch in the jaw brings him down. The last two attack me at once, and to my surprise, they manage to subdue me.

With a growl, I rip one man off of my body and kick him powerfully in the stomach. I hit my last attacker in the nose, causing a red waterfall to flow from it. Before I can celebrate my victory, one of the trainers I knocked over seizes me from behind.

Deciding on my trusty technique, I grab his ankles and slam him into the floor. Not wanting to wait until he is unconscious, I throw him like a bowling ball into the rest of the trainers.

_Strike!_ I think to myself.

"You're welcome," I tell the Gamemakers haughtily. As I leave, I grab a piece of chicken from the Gamemaker closest to me and sink my teeth into it. Ripping off a chunk like a beast, I toss the chicken back.

"De-_licious,_" I drawl, swallowing the poultry. Once I'm in front of my fellow tributes again, I lick my lips and put on a fresh smile. These Games are mine.

* * *

_Shear Casper- District 10_

When Bull sits down heavily next to me, I try my hardest to give him a withering look. He simply laughs cruelly and smirks at me.

"What are you so happy about, _Bull_?" I spit, riled up for no apparent reason. Instead of waiting for a reply, I brush past him for my Private Session. I make sure to stomp on his toes on my way out.

_What are you _doing_, Shear? You're making an enemy out of one of the most dangerous tributes! Knock it off!_ Still glowering, I step through the doorway, only to be met by commotion.

"He ate my chicken!" an old man shrills, waving his hands frantically. "_He ate my chicken!"_

"We heard you the first time," the Head Gamemaker hisses. "Now be quiet and eat something else."

"But I wanted chicken!" the man whines. The Head Gamemaker shuts him up with a harsh glance, and I find myself jealous of her ability to convey such hatred with only her facial expression.

_Stop being silly, Shear. Focus on what's important._

"Shear Casper, Ten," I declare, trying to copy the Head Gamemaker's expression.

"Can I set the mutts on her?" one lady asks with a drunken giggle. A wave of anger rushes past me.

_Control yourself, Shear_, I internally warn myself, but it is no use.

"What did you say?" I demand, the tone of my voice becoming shrill. "_What did you say?!"_ I take a deep breath and uncork my emotions.

"You're all a bunch of sick, twisted Capitolites who take pleasure in killing children! How _dare_ you call this entertainment? These are people's lives we're talking about, and you're acting like we're toys. Well I have something to tell you! I'm not a toy, and neither is anyone else going in your sadistic arena! We're living, breathing _humans_! We don't deserve to be turned into homicidal creatures! In a matter of weeks, twenty-three children are going to be _dead!_ How can you live with yourselves?" I scream.

Rage courses through my veins, temporarily held at bay by the sensible part of me that knows my temper will get me killed.

"You are dismissed," the Head Gamemaker announces curtly.

"I'm not finished!" I shout. As I start another rant, two guards grab me by the arms and roughly carry me outside.

"You're sick! I hate you!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. Several tributes turn my way, looking at me like I'm insane.

_You _are _insane, Shear. You're as good as dead._ But I don't care. I simply don't care. No matter what, I'm dead.

* * *

_Plow Adams- District 11_

"You're sick! I hate you!" These words ring through the hall, making each head swivel towards the source of the noise. Personally, I think that more than half of these tributes wish they could say the same thing. It doesn't matter, though. Whoever dared to voice that opinion will be dead within the first minute in that arena.

However, that is not the most pressing matter at the moment. It is my turn to display my skills and be evaluated. Since the boy from District One went, I've been contemplating what to do. I quickly came to the conclusion of setting traps.

As I walk past the struggling, wailing girl from Ten, I repeat the same word in my mind. _Traps. Traps. Traps._ That word becomes my mantra as I enter the room. My mentor had warned me that District 11 tributes hardly got any attention paid to them in the sessions, since the Gamemakers were usually drunk by that point. However, they are all wary and alert, actually looking quite shaken.

_Traps. Traps. Traps._ "I'm Plow Adams from District 11." _Traps. Traps._

The one syllable rolls through my mind as I begin to build a trap for catching large birds. Twigs and leaves pile up, looking half-hazard, but actually precisely placed. I remind myself to test the trigger points as I build so no mistakes can be made. _Traps. Traps._

The main structure is complete, so I begin camouflaging it. A few leaves here, some mashed berries there. When the trap is complete, I bring it right in front of the Gamemakers. _What should I use to trigger the trap?_ I wonder. An Avox girl walks in with a large chicken perfect for this display.

Gathering my courage, I take the roasted bird right off of the plate as soon as it is set down, earning a startled yelp from an old man.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to need that," I say breezily. Carefully holding the chicken, I place it right at the mouth of the trap. Slowly, I nudge it with my foot, until the bird triggers the trap, and is enclosed in a sharp cage. The roast bird is cleanly sliced by the bars I've created, making a ready-made meal.

"Thank you," I tell them, bowing. "And here's you're chicken." I plop the entire trap into a dirty plate and leave hurriedly.

"They keep stealing my chicken!" the old man protests, sounding like a spoiled child.

"Deal with it, Caesar!"

* * *

_Orchard Bentley- District 11_

An encouraging smile from Fray is the last thing I see before I'm swept into the room with the Gamemakers. I remind myself that I am prepared as I bow my head respectfully.

"Orchard Bentley." I take three knifes and tuck two of them into the belt that is part of my outfit. I stand a good distance away from the target and let loose the first knife. A bulls-eye. A small smile appears on my face.

I then walk over to a fake tree and climb about ten feet high. Hanging on with one arm and both of my legs, I throw the second knife. It sinks into the ring surrounding the bulls-eye area. Not bad.

Finally, I seat myself in the tree as high up as I dare. Balancing precariously on a branch, I heave the last knife, slipping as I do. I manage to grasp the branch with my hands, dangling dangerously. I sneak a glance at where my last throw landed, to find that it was just shy of a bulls-eye.

Sighing, I swing along the branch until I'm attached to the trunk once again. Carefully, I descend, making sure not to lose my balance again.

_A satisfactory performance,_ I tell myself grudgingly.

"Thank you for your time." I practically scurry outside, wanting to see Fray's smile more than anything.

* * *

_Dust Zakowski- District 12_

I have no talents. No skills. Nothing to keep me from dying in the Bloodbath. I am painfully reminded of that fact as I walk to my Private Session.

_No skills. No hope. Just a lost, helpless boy,_ a little voice inside of me nags. The closest thing to work I've done is woven through the Hob to trade Mom's old silverware for some food. A blissful smile alights on my face as I recall the strong smells mixing with each other in the busy black market. Steam rises from pots and vendors clank pots together to draw attention to themselves.

_Stop daydreaming, Dust. You're not in the Hob. You're in the Hunger Games, and if you don't focus, you'll end up dead._

My vision of the Hob acts as an inner compass, guiding me towards the obstacle course. This should be fun.

Taking a deep breath hit the button to reset the timer. I punch the button again, and blinking lights count me down. _Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

With an alarming blare, my timer starts. I jump onto the platform and take off running. Two pillars with an uncomfortably small space between them materialize in front of me. _Just a couple of abandoned pots._ I squeeze through them, only to be assaulted by spinning poles with foam-covered spines protruding from them. I dodge the spines, ducking and leaping without much grace.

The challenges go on and on, causing sweat to pour into my eyes. In the split second I take to wipe my eyes, a huge bar knocks me to the ground. Wheezing, I army crawl under another bar, almost hitting my head as I stand up. Finally, the finish line comes into view.

I sprint towards the sign, feeling the cramps in my body. I'm vaguely aware of the fact that the floor right in front of the finish has a fold down the middle. Almost like a hatch...

Right before the floor folds downwards, my instincts tell me to jump. I sail over the now-empty space and through the finish line.

I don't remember anything except walking out of the room in a daze.

* * *

_Meadow Welsley- District 12_

I don't recall standing up and walking, but all too soon, I'm in front of the Gamemakers. I, Meadow Welsley, the most untalented girl in the world, am standing in front of people expecting me to show them skills.

Feeling helpless, I meander over to the weapons station and take a large sword into my hands. Memories of my failed trial with sword fighting come back, but that was the only skill I tried to learn in the three days of training. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Weighed down with dread and a gigantic sword, I square up with the smallest, youngest trainer. She tosses me some gear, and swings offensively the second I buckle the last strap. Instinctively, I move my sword to block the blow. However, the awkwardly heavy weapon doesn't meet her blade.

Instead, I'm smacked in the chest with the trainer's sword. Dazed and confused, I clumsily swing my sword at the trainer, not coming even close to hitting her.

With a sigh, she disarms me and points her blade at my throat. My cheeks burn in shame, knowing that I will be lucky to score a three.

The trainer helps me up and takes off both of our gear. "Good luck," she tells me. "You're going to need it," the trainer adds with a murmur that I wasn't supposed to hear.

Without warning, tears prick my eyes. I leave the room, hoping that my death will be quick and painless.

* * *

**Well, that chapter went from being "decent-sized" to being the longest chapter yet without me even trying. I don't know why, but the words just flowed so easily in this chapter. I think it was my best one yet, and hopefully you guys will think the same. Anyway, let's move on to the announcements.**

**ANNOUNCEMENT #1: A FF author by the penname of SleepingQueen17 has just posted a PJO/HG crossover. It's one of her first stories (she deleted her first), and she could really use some support. So please head on over to that story, A Strange Form of Entertainment, and leave it some nice reviews (after you review mine, of course :P) Favorite and follow if you want to! In case you're wondering why I'm giving her a shout out, it's because a) She was my 42nd reviewer and b) I'm beta-ing the story!**

**ANNOUNCEMENT #2: I will be posting a poll very shortly to see which characters you guys want killed off in the Bloodbath (wow, that sounds awful). We still have a few chapters before we get to the arena (I'm excited as you are), but I want to get that out of the way. So head on over to my profile and vote. And that reminds me, I actually have a third announcement. So please bear with me for a little while longer!**

**ANNOUNCEMENT #3: My 50th reviewer will get a shout out, and I will go check out one or more of their stories. Hopefully that number will come soon!**

* * *

**Sorry for all of those announcements! I know that this was a superlong A/N, but since I wrote you guys an extra-long chapter, I think it's fair. :P So if you skipped those announcements, please go back and read them because they're important. That's all for now (finally, right!)**

**~LT**

**P.S. I'm so glad to get these sessions done, and I hope I did a good job. Let me know! If you know what I mean ;) In case you don't...**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


	12. The Capitol Recap (Reapings)

**Hello People of the World,**

**I am now attempting to update every 1-3 days. I want to get as many chapters up as possible before school starts, so you should be getting bombarded with updates. :P**

_**Please go vote on my poll!**_**I should be hitting the arena in three or four more chapters, and I really need to know who to kill off. So please, pretty please, with a cherry on top, GO VOTE!**

**Now, let's talk about the chapter. For the people who have reviewed saying that they miss the Reapings, I have created a show called the Capitol Recap. In this show, Caesar Flickerman plays clips of the Reapings and comments on them. So, I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_Caesar Flickerman- Interview Host_

"Caesar, we're beginning in ten minutes," a metallic voice from my earpiece informs me. I tap the button on the left to let them know that I'm ready.

"Caesar, my love! We need to add the finishing touches!" Priscilla, my stylist shrieks. I flash her a smile, artfully disguising my distaste for her. I am yanked into a sitting position on the plush chair, and my face is attacked by a dozen different brushes, pencils, and pastes.

Priscilla snips at my wig and dyes it again, to return it to its former glory of lime green. In a minute or two, the flurry of stylists passes by, and I'm standing backstage, ready to go out.

"Three minutes!" I fluff the wig self-consciously and take another look at myself in the full-length mirror. A smooth, flawless face that looks not a day over thirty beams at me. The face that all of Panem has come to love.

"Thirty seconds!" I compose myself, rehearsing my signature greeting internally. As the lights flash in front of me, I take a deep breath and put on my most brilliant smile.

Suddenly, the doors burst open, and I can see the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're host... Caesar Flickerman!" a loud voice calls. Thunderous applause begins as I waltz onto the stage, grinning and winking cheekily at everyone. With an elaborate, sweeping bow, I position myself on my designated red, plush chair.

"Welcome, Panem, to the Capitol Recap!" I shout, spreading my arms to them. Screams of adoration reach my ears, making my heart swell. "Welcome! Welcome!" I repeat, taking in the sight of every single pierced, painted, plucked, and plastic citizen.

The cheers don't die down for even a second, so I raise my voice.

"Let's get _start-ed_!" I exclaim. As soon as I utter the last syllable, a projection of the Capitol seal appears for the convenience of the audience as well as myself.

The anthem plays, and the seal dissolves and transitions into the lavish, well-decorated stage of District One.

"District One! What a District! They've got gems and jewels galore, and most importantly, some terrific-looking tributes! This year, we've got Luster Blackwell and Topaz Barton!" The audience goes wild as soon as I say the tributes' names. The clip of the Reaping starts to play.

The escort dips her fingers into the girl bowl, a smile frozen on her face. With a flourish, she draws the name, and as soon as she opens her lips, a mad dash to get to the stage begins. The audience watches gleefully as Topaz and another girl run neck and neck. Right before they reach the steps, Topaz kicks out her leg, cutting the other girl with her high heel. For a second, the other one trying to volunteer falters, and Topaz runs onto the stage.

"Topaz! Topaz Barton!" her voice rings. As the escort moves on to the next bowl, Topaz takes a moment to pat her hair into place and adjust her dress, which has become wrinkled in the frenzy.

As before, a stampede of boys rushes to get ahead as soon as the escort makes a sound. This time, the race is much more violent. Several young men are punching, kicking, and even biting, causing flows of blood everywhere. However, one boy jogs with ease onto the stage, ahead of the pack the whole time.

"Luster Blackwell, your next victor!" Luster's face breaks into a grin, and he turns to shake hands with Topaz.

"I beg to differ!" Topaz retorts loudly.

"Now, now! Let's not start any fights! A nice handshake ought to do it," the escort bubbles, hurrying to smooth over the issue. Wearing a frighteningly sweet smile, Topaz extends a manicured hand. With that, the clip ends, and the screen fades to black.

"Now, we're already seeing some tension building up, aren't we?" I ask with a cocky smile. "And we're only on the first district! Moving right along to District Two, from which we have the honor to receive Warrior Fantao and Quarry Jacobs!" The room seems about to burst from all of the noise as the next video begins.

The clip starts right as the girls are sprinting towards the stage, zooming in on young Quarry, whose expression is one of utter concentration. Quarry pumps her arms, lashing out at anyone near her, and then flinging herself onto the stage.

She then dusts herself off and announces her name proudly. "Quarry Jacobs." The escort smiles and turns to the next bowl. As usual, a wave of boys wanting to volunteer starts, but three boys are tied for first place. Even as they reach the steps, neither one of them hesitates.

The three squeeze past each other onto the stage, but the boy who must be Warrior leaps ahead and lands right in front of the microphone.

"Warrior Fantao!" he gasps, bending over and pressing his hands to his knees. The other two leave the stage, glaring violently at him. Looking immensely proud, Warrior sticks out a hand, which Quarry takes in a handshake.

They look each other in the eye, conveying a passionate hatred, but maintaining a smile for show. The video ends with a zoomed in shot of the two tributes making eye contact.

"Well, I can almost feel the pressure! I'm sure you all can say the same!" My comment is met by more enthusiastic clapping.

Not wanting to waste any time, I start speaking immediately. "Now, we'll take a look at the brains of Panem! And by that, I mean, District Three, the home of Fuse Browning and Circuit Fleming!"

This time, you can clearly see the look of panic on all of the faces in the square. Each pair of eyes is trained on the escort, filled with fear and anxiety.

"Ladies first, as always!" the low voice intones. The man digs his plump hand into the bowl, mixing up each slip and finally choosing one. "Circuit Fleming!" he reads.

The scrawny-looking redhead skips onto the stage, a confident look in her steely eyes. The escort bows his head at her, mentioning that she's "and enthusiastic young lady", to which Circuit responds with a nod.

"And now the gentlemen!" Once again, the hand is bathed in slips, plucking one with eagerness. "Fuse Browning!" A voice or two cries out, but without much hassle, the male tribute joins Circuit on the stage. Fuse visibly quakes as Circuit grabs his hand and squeezes it with a smile that belongs on a Career's face.

"Not exactly what you were expecting from that district, was it?" I inquire. More noise. "_I_ definitely wasn't expecting that! But now, let's view the Reapings from District Four! Something there seemed a little _fishy_!" The audience groans good-naturedly at my purposely corny joke, but quiets once the next video rolls.

A lady died entirely blue plunges her hands into the female bowl. Her nails which are made to look like shells latch on to a single slip.

Yet another race starts, though not nearly as violent as the ones in the first two districts. A strong, well-built girl announces her name as Marina Welch, and waits patiently as she is joined by the male volunteer.

"These year's tributes, Marina Welch and Tide Watson!" The two shake hands, both holding on a little tighter than necessary.

"I do believe we have two more tributes to keep a close eye on! But now, let's meet two more! Surge Hallow and Buzz Diomede from the Power District!" I boom.

The fearful look on faces returns as the escort swirls her fingers around in a bowl. Purposely adding suspense, she grabs a slip and begins to open it, but then drops it back into the bowl. She takes another one and opens it agonizingly slowly. I frown at her. There's a difference between building suspense and just plain torturing people.

"Surge Hallow!" The name hangs in the air for a moment, before a high-pitched wail pierces the atmosphere.

"No, Surge!" a young, female voice cries. The tribute from District Five walks purposefully up to the stage, but the pain in her eyes is evident.

"Surge!" A little girl bursts from the crowd and runs towards the stage. Peacekeepers hold her back, but her piteous sobs can still be heard.

The hand goes back in, but immediately grabs a slip this time. "Buzz Diomede!" For several moments, no one comes forward, but the camera zooms in on a dazed-looking boy. Peacekeepers begin to march him to the stage.

"What's going on?" he inquires, clearly confused.

"Please don't take my Buzz! He won't last a day!" a woman who must be his mother weeps. "Not my Buzz!"

For once, I am glad that the recording is over. The audience is also considerably quieter. "These tributes will clearly be missed! We wish them the best," I state simply. Thousands of voices join mine, agreeing with me in a melodious blend.

"But let's _move_ right along to the Transportation District, where Engine Franklin and Road Nelson reside!" More moans come from the audience, but I smile just as brightly.

This Reaping goes by fairly quickly. The tributes walk up to the stage, shocked, but almost... determined. They shake hands gently, each looking into each others' eyes, as if saying, "We'll be okay." The camera focuses on their clasped hands, and then turns the screen black.

"Well, these tributes definitely have some fight in them! Maybe we'll see an alliance forming, if we're lucky," I suggest, raising my eyebrows. My comment is met by more screams of joy, filling my eardrums.

"But maybe we should _chop-chop_ and get right to District Seven!" I declare, actually quite pleased with my joke. "Fell Marshall and Sap Martin are from the Lumber District!"

The screen is filled up with a hand searching through a bowl, sifting the papers carefully. The painted green nails squeeze the paper and unfold them. The camera moves to focus on the green lips forming a name. "Sap Martin!" A few cries punctuate the air, but the small girl walks briskly, not bothering to hide the tears glistening on her cheeks.

She sniffles and wipes at her nose while the green nails go back in for more. "Fell Marshall!" A strong-looking boy takes the stage, brushing his brown hair to cover most of his face. Not looking at anything in particular, Fell grasps the smaller hand and gives it a firm shake, and the clip ends.

"Well, all I have to say is: that escort had a good choice in color!" I gesture towards my own green hair, earning more laughs. "But let's focus on Fray Jennings and Thread Simon from Eight, known for its textiles!"

Right away, Thread's face fills the screen, her eyes trembling with tears. Her hands are balled at her side, twitching ever so slightly. As soon as she reaches the stage, Thread falls apart. Tears stain her rosy face, dripping off of her face. Not bothering to wipe her eyes, Thread waits patiently for the next name to be called.

"Fray Jennings!" A kind-looking boy comes up, eyes filled with remorse. He reaches his hand out towards Thread. As they shake hands, a fresh onslaught of tears begins, with Thread hiccupping in the background.

Pulling out my handkerchief, I gaze out at the audience. "I _do_ wish I could wipe her tears," I sigh, earning many sympathetic looks. "And now, Husk Rockwell and Grain Kingsley from Nine!"

Another relatively uneventful Reaping rolls by. I have nothing to comment on, so I simply smile and move on. "From District Ten, we have Bull Oakley and Shear Casper joining us!" The applause dies down as soon as the clip starts.

"Shear Casper!" As soon as her name is called, the girl starts screaming unintelligibly. "Let me go, you monsters!" Shear shrieks at the Peacekeepers carrying her up to the stage. The escort frowns slightly at her, and then pulls out another slip. "Bull Oakley!"

A huge, lumbering boy takes the stage, walking slowly and purposefully. His small eyes squint at Shear, and he crushes her small, bony hand in his large, beefy one.

Shear immediately kicks at him. "Don't touch me!" The video ends right there.

"Well, she's certainly got a temper!" I say. The audience agrees with me as I introduce the tributes from District Eleven.

The Reaping starts, and the name called is Poppy Hatton. To the surprise of everyone, a young, slender girl darts onto the stage.

"I'm Orchard Bentley, and I volunteer!"

"Orchard, no! What are you doing?" someone yells, the pain evident in their voice. Orchard simply smiles and waits. Plow Adams joins her on stage, and they shake hands.

"Well, that certainly was interesting. It's not everyday we see a volunteer from those outer districts," I point out. "And last, but certainly not least, Dust Zakowski and Meadow Welsley from Twelve!"

"Meadow Welsley!" the escort declares. A small, scared girl walks slowly to the stage. She trembles, but seems too shocked to cry.

"Dust Zakowski!" Another small, scared-looking tribute comes up. Their tiny, bony hands clasp each others, and then they let go.

"Well, everyone! That's this year's episode of the Capitol Recap! Make sure to stay tuned for interviews, the Games, and the Recap for next year! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" The applause is the only thing I hear as I walk off of the stage.

* * *

**And... we're done with the Capitol Recap! I hope you guys enjoyed that chapter, because it was quite long, and I literally stayed up till morning working on it.**

**I don't have much to say, except**

**VOTE ON THE POLL!**

**VOTE ON THE POLL!**

**VOTE ON THE POLL!**

**Do it...**

**I love you all so please review. I've been working very hard on frequent updates, but haven't been receiving many reviews. :(**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**

**VOTE ON THE POLL!**


	13. Interview Preparations

**Hello People of the World,**

**I just hit FIFTY reviews! For some of you, that may not seem like a big deal, but for me, it is. I just want to thank everyone who has reviewed. I appreciate all of your comments. Thanks to ****MissBunburyHope, Serenetie-Ishida, SleepingQueen17, XxAzuritexX, unspeakable49,**** and nightfuries.**

**You are all amazing, and thanks to you, I have four pages of reviews!**

**A shout out to UNSPEAKABLE49 for being the 50th reviewer. She's a great writer with plenty of interesting stories on her profile.**

**In honor of this milestone, I am posting ANOTHER chapter! Technically, this is two updates in one day, since the other one was posted a little past midnight, but FF said that I posted it on the 26th. This chapter contains some tribute POVs of prepping for the interviews.**

**And by the way, I lied. It's going to take more than four chapters to reach the arena. I just loooooove making you guys wait! :P**

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

_Topaz Barton- District 1_

"Topaz, sweetie! You're going to be practicing with me first today," Gemma, the escort croons. "We're going to work on how to make audience love you!"

"No matter _what_ I do, they'll love me," I shoot, staring at her heatedly.

"Oh, good job, sweetie! Confidence is key! But just remember, there is always room for improvement," Gemma insists. I keep my eyes fixed on her.

With a small sigh, Gemma starts speaking again. "Very well, then, Topaz. You seem like a very refined young lady, so why don't you show me how to walk on stage?"

Instantly, I put on a bright, cheery smile and throw my shoulders back. I strut away from Gemma, all the way to the other side of the room, waving and blowing kisses.

She applauds and walks briskly to where I'm standing. "Excellent, excellent, Topaz. But I think we want to add more character into your walk. You portray certainty beautifully, but maybe we should try to be a _little_ more girlish when you get on stage!"

"How?" I ask.

"I want you to zigzag a little. Throw in a curtsy or two. And keep blowing kisses," Gemma responds. I follow her instructions, and earn a delighted giggle, followed by a clap.

"Well, we don't need to spend any more time on that," she bubbles. "Now, let's talk _posture._"

She ushers me to a pair of seats and tells me to sit down. Keeping my back straight and my head high, I cross my legs and look to Gemma for approval.

"Very nice, as usual, sweetie. But, we want your angle to reflect in the way you sit as well. And a beautiful young lady like you should show off a little. Flirt, if you will," she tells me.

_That should be easy_, I think. Gemma arranges her legs to be crossed tightly and leans slightly forward. She bats her eyelashes and gushes, "Well, of course, Caesar!"

I put my own spin on her example and lean in towards Gemma. I tilt my shoulders so one is higher than the other, and roll them slightly, blinking rapidly.

"Well, of _course_, Caesar," I repeat in a sweet voice, with a little giggle. I jerk my neck a little, flipping my golden curls.

"Excellent!"

* * *

_Sap Martin- District 7_

"What's your angle?" Bryant demands as soon as I sit down. His dark eyes stare intently into mine, searching for some sort of response. The only problem is, I don't have an answer for him.

"Um..." I mumble, looking down and twirling a strand of my hair.

"I see what you're doing. You're playing up the 'shy girl' angle," Bryant responds.

"What?" I'm honestly confused.

"Isn't that your angle?" When I raise my eyebrows at him, he sighs.

"So, for the interviews, you're going to need an angle, Sap. Kind of what your personality is going to be. How you're going to answer the questions, and such. Picking an angle is very important, because it helps you connect with the Sponsors," Bryant explains patiently.

"Well, I don't really know," I state simply. He sighs again, but maintains a friendly smile.

"Why don't I ask you some questions, and maybe your answers will help us find an angle for you?" he suggests. I nod in agreement.

"What was your family like in District Seven?" Bryant inquires, speaking with a heavy Capitol accent. I can't help but laugh a little.

"Well, it's just my mom, my dad, and my-" I was about to say "brother", but I catch myself. "Just Mom and Dad," I finish. However, emotions are surfacing at the thought of Birch's death in the Games.

"I see. And I suppose you'll try to win for them?" he prompts.

I can feel tears blossoming in my eyes. _Don't cry, don't cry,_ I scold myself. A drop or two slips out, but I manage not to break down.

"Well, yes," I begin carefully. "But, also for... Birch," I confess, feeling the tears flowing rapidly now.

"And who is Birch?" I cry harder, but force myself to answer Bryant's question.

"He was my brother, before he got-" My voice cracks, and my mentor's face becomes entirely blurred.

_Be strong, Sap. You need to convince people that you've got what it takes to become a Victor._

"He was my brother, before he got Reaped. He didn't win," I say tremulously. Tired of crying, I wipe my face with my hands and take a few deep breaths.

"But I'm going to win for him. I promise."

Bryant loses the Capitol accent. "Alright, Sap. I think we've got something good to work with. For the audience, I want you to be emotional, yet determined. Do you think you can do that?" he asks gently.

I nod, but more drops stain my face, no matter how hard I try to stop crying.

Suddenly, I'm being hugged by strong, caring arms. "Let's take a little break." I nod again, and sniffle.

"I know it's hard, Sap. I've lost more people than I can count," Bryant whispers, squeezing me tighter.

* * *

_Warrior Fantao- District 2_

"Head high, shoulders back, spine straight, smile wide," Desire drills me. Frowning at my escort in annoyance, I stride across the room.

"No, no, NO!" my escort screeches. "Head high!" Desire tilts my chin up. "Shoulders back!" She pushes on my shoulders until they're in a satisfactory position.

"Now improve your posture and _smile_!" Desire demands. I grin at her and slouch even more.

"Is that better, Desire?" I inquire in an innocent voice.

"Warrior, don't think you're fooling me for a second with that act! I am _trying_ to teach you how to attract sponsors, and if you don't take this seriously, it's going to harm all of us," she shrieks. Honestly, I don't get why Desire is making such a big deal out of this. _I'm _the one going into the Games. All _she_ has to do is totter around in gigantic, ridiculous dresses and annoy everyone with her high-pitched voice.

As if she can read my mind, Desire clicks her tongue and pouts. "It's _easy_, Warrior, darling. Just put a little effort."

"_Fine_," I groan.

"Now, remember. Head, shoulders, spine, smile!" Desire repeats, much to my annoyance.

However, I decide to listen to her instructions. With perfect posture, I strut around, practicing smiling at the audience.

"Much better, Warrior. Don't you see how smoothly things can go when you listen?" Desire cocks her head and widens her eyes.

I merely grumble in response.

"Now, let's move on to how to sit!" she proposes with too much enthusiasm. "Since you are a male, I want you to command. Look strong and proud! Take up space and look genuinely interested in answering Caesar's questions."

I sit in the chair that Desire set up for practice, keeping my back straight and my head high.

"Don't look so aloof, though," she criticizes. "Loosen up just a _little _bit, and keep your arm muscles flexed."

I do what she says, showing off the muscles that six years of training have carefully sculpted. Desire looks at me and claps, letting out a small shriek of satisfaction.

For a few minutes, she makes me hold that position, which quickly gets boring.

"Now let's have a little bit of that Career cockiness! Give me your most confident smile," Desire tells me. I grin at her again, keeping my smile purposely lopsided.

"Oh, they are simply going to _love _you!" Desire exclaims.

* * *

_Bull Oakley- District 10_

"Well, Bull, let's talk about content. Now, the only angle that would make sense for your size is to be sullen and mysterious," Rider begins.

"I don't like mysteries," I respond in a flat voice. Rider raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I suppose you could be blunt and straight to the point instead," my mentor suggests.

"Whichever requires the least amount of talking," I grunt.

To my surprise, Rider cracks a smile.

"I like it, Bull. You've got a personality. Frank and simple. We can do a lot with that," he tells me happily.

"How much longer is this going to take?" I ask, already getting bored of the conversation.

"Well, Xenia has scheduled two hours for the content session," Rider informs me.

"This should be fun," I mutter sarcastically.

"Bull, it's not going to be that bad. I'll just ask you a few questions, and I want you to give me a natural answer. Don't think much. Just say what's on your mind."

"Fine. But let's hurry up and get this over with," I answer, wanting to get back to my room to try some more heavenly foods from the Capitol.

"Bull, what do you think of the Capitol?" Rider questions me.

"The food is good."

"And how do you feel about the Games?" He quirks an eyebrow at me.

"I'm going to win."

"Would you like to say anything to your family?" Rider asks.

"No."

"Bull, when I said to be blunt, I didn't mean to give me answers less than five words," Rider sighs, looking disappointed.

"But you said to say what was on my mind," I argue, smirking.

"Well, maybe you could elaborate a little," Rider suggests, getting a little annoyed.

"No." With that, I get up and walk back to my room.

* * *

**Yes, that was a major filler chapter. However, we got a little more character development. I wanted to post another chapter, but I didn't have enough time to type the Interviews, so you guys get this instead. I hope you still enjoyed.**

**This chapter was a _little_ short, but still over 1500 words. So, you got 2 decent-sized chapters in under 24 hours! I hope you enjoy these daily updates, because they'll be ending this week. :( Sadly, school will be starting, and I'll have other priorities.**

**In the meantine, VOTE ON THE POLL! VOTE ON THE POLL! VOTE ON THE POLL!**

**And...**

** ( (**

( (

( (

( (

( (

_( (_

\ /

\/


	14. Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks

**Hello People of the World,**

**Sorry for the long wait, but you should get used to it. I've started school, so I'll be increasingly busy. The updates will come only a few times a month, so following this story would PROBABLY be a good idea. The updates will be short and infrequent.**

**!READ!: I've been losing interest in this story, because I've had to write Chariot Rides, Private Sessions, Training, and all of that stuff. So even though Interviews are SUPER important, for now I will be skipping them. This has gotten really boring to write, so I've decided that I'm starting the arena. If the Interviews are requested in reviews and PMs, I might write them. But, for now, this chapter is the BLOODBATH! I'm super excited to start the Games. I've been waiting so long!**

**Last thing before the chapter starts! Since we're starting the arena, I also wanted to start putting song quotes in the beginning and end of each chapter. So, yeah. I'm starting that in this chapter. Okay, enough rambling. Let's get started.**

* * *

_District 1_

_M: Luster Blackwell_

_F: Topaz Barton_

_District 2_

_M: Warrior Fantao_

_F: Quarry Jacobs_

_District 3_

_M: Fuse Browning_

_F: Circuit Fleming_

_District 4_

_M: Tide Watson_

_F: Marina Welch_

_District 5_

_M: Buzz Diomede_

_F: Surge Hallow_

_District 6_

_M: Engine Franklin_

_F: Road Nelson_

_District 7_

_M:Fell Marshal_

_F: Sap Martin_

_District 8_

_M: Fray Jennings_

_F: Thread Simon_

_District 9_

_M:Husk Rockwell_

_F: Grain Kingsley_

_District 10_

_M: Bull Oakley_

_F: Shear Casper_

_District 11_

_M: Plow Adams_

_F: Orchard Bentley_

_District 12_

_M: Dust Zakowksi _

_F: Meadow Welsley_

* * *

_"The lights go out and I can't be saved_

_Tides that I've tried to swim against..._

_Confusion never stops_

_Closing walls and ticking clocks"_

_Clocks, by Coldplay_

* * *

Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks

_Thread Simon- District 8_

"Thread, I need you to get into your outfit," my stylist says softly, handing me clothes hidden by a black covering. A whimper escapes my lips as I take the hanger. Reality is beginning to sink in. In a few minutes, I'll be standing on a metal plate, waiting for the gong. I'm going into the Hunger Games. I'm going to die.

Gulping, I unzip the covering, revealing what I am to wear. I rub the fabric between my fingers, but it isn't like anything I've dealt with in the factory. Anxiety making my chest uncomfortably tight, I pull the suit on and examine myself in the mirror.

The suit is black, with a layer of shimmering fabric stitched on top. It fits tightly, but doesn't seem to be waterproof or insulating. What could it possibly do? I stretch my arms and legs a little to make sure it's comfortable, and then my clothes seem to morph in front of my eyes. The material is now shiny and sleek.

Not believing my eyes, I feel the suit. Waterproof. Utterly confused, I turn to face the stylist. She smiles apologetically at me, and startles me with a quick hug.

"All I can do is wish you good luck," she murmurs. And then, I hear a robotic voice.

"Tributes should be loaded now. Launch is in thirty seconds." The stylist releases me, and gives me a gentle nudge towards the tube in the corner.

Feeling numb, I walk shakily into the tube. The clear doors shut around me, and suddenly, I'm shooting upwards.

* * *

_Plow Adams- District 11_

The first thing I see when my plate rises is water. Blue-green waves seem to engulf me. Careful not to step off of the plate, I move around a little, trying to catch a glimpse of the arena. However, the waves somehow prevent me from seeing my surroundings.

The pair from Four is looking especially smug, but most of the other tributes have their eyes trained on the clock. _The clock!_ I haven't been paying any attention to the countdown!

Thankfully, there are still 48 seconds left. _Okay, Plow. Strategize._ I try desperately to see past the water, but it completely fills my vision. Forcing myself not to hyperventilate, I look back at the clock.

_36_. The numbers change too rapidly. My time of ensured survival is slipping away alarmingly. _32, 31, 30._

My breathing is speeding up, and I can feel my palms getting sweaty. Nausea hits me, threatening to bring up the remains of my Capitol breakfast.

_You can't throw up, Plow! It'll set off the mines!_ Taking deep breaths to calm by stomach, I continue to stare at the clock. _15, 14, 13, 12, 11._

I only have ten seconds. As the gong sounds, the last thing I think is "I can't swim!" before I close my eyes and leap into the water.

The waves swallow me instantly, and salty water fills my nose and mouth. I try to take a breath, but all I do is cough. Already, my lungs are begging for oxygen.

I flail my limbs, trying to reach the surface, but nothing happens. I open my eyes, only to have them burn from the salt. Still, I manage to look upwards. The surface is too far away. I'm going to drown.

I kick harder, hoping and praying with all my might that I will make it. My chest feels like it's about to burst.

_Swim, Plow! Swim!_ But I can feel my energy being drained along with my breath. Dark spots creep in front of my eyes, growing larger and larger.

_Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad._ And then my vision goes black.

* * *

_Fell Marshall- District 7_

As soon as my head breaks the surface, I scan the arena. Water extends as far as I can see, but several hundred yards away, what looks like a giant sandcastle rises into the air. The tributes from Four are swimming at an inhuman speed towards the sandcastle Cornucopia, and behind them are a few others.

_Swim, Fell. You need to get supplies. _I take powerful strokes and kick my legs as hard as I can. I have to be one of the first ones there.

My heart starts pounding harder and harder as the tributes from Four race to the Cornucopia. If they get weapons, they will kill me. Energy floods through my body, propelling my arms and legs forward. As I get within 100 feet of the sandcastle, the boy jumps out of the water and onto the small area of land surrounding the castle. The girl is right behind him, running to try and pass him.

Looking confused, the boy quickly circles the Cornucopia, trying to find an entrance. With a grin, his District Partner grabs onto the sides of the castle and begins climbing up one of the sand walls. Her fingers grasp at clam shells and little windows, hauling herself up. The boy starts after her, quickly catching up. At this point, I'm on the little "island", joined with about four other tributes. The girl from Four has now fallen behind her Partner, and he's only a couple of feet from the top.

With a crazed scream, she takes one hand off of the sandcastle and wraps it around his ankle. Grunting, the girl tugs on his leg as hard as she can, wrenching him off of the castle. With a bellow, the male tribute tumbles off, and sails through the air, landing on his back. His partner laughs delightedly and she reaches the top, leaping into the huge entrance hole.

All of a sudden, the island and the water disappear, rapidly being replaced by miles of white snow. The girl from Four falls into the snow, landing on a pile of supplies. Instantly, a stampede for the weapons starts. I find myself running as fast as I possibly can towards the mound in the snow.

A small redheaded girl rams into me with her shoulder, knocking me face-first into the snow. By the time I've wiped the cold, white fluff off of my face, fighting has broken out at the Cornucopia. The Bloodbath has started.

* * *

_Warrior Fantao- District 2_

_"_Sorry, Warrior, but I think _I _win," Quarry's voice says out of nowhere. A second later, she's in front of me, pumping her arms to get to the Cornucopia.

"You sure about that?" I retort, tackling her into the snow. Immediately, she starts shrieking and squirming to free herself, kicking me several times in the process.

Not wanting to waste anytime, I swiftly kick her in the stomach before getting off of her. Luster is already at the pile of supplies, wielding a sword expertly. The small girl that Quarry was frightening during Training tries to slip past him, but he simply cackles before grabbing her by her jacket.

I can't hear her pleas for help over the noise, but within a few seconds, Luster has dragged his blade across her stomach, spurting blood onto the white snow. This time, I hear her bloodcurdling scream as she slumps onto the ground. Just in case, Luster stabs her in the stomach before running to find another victim.

Through the chaos and blood spilling onto the snow, I manage to spot Engine. His face breaks into a smile when he sees me. _How stupid can you get?_ I wonder, maneuvering through the crowd of tributes to grab a mace.

"Warrior!" Engine calls to me, running to me. "What's our plan?"

"I don't know what you mean by 'our'," I sneer, bringing up my mace to smash in his skull. Right before I meet my target, something comes hurtling towards me, knocking me out of line.

"He's mine," Quarry growls, twirling her spear. As she releases her weapon, I pull on her leg, causing her spear to only impale Engine's arm. He howls in pain, tears soaking his face.

"Warrior, I trusted you," he whimpers as I approach with my mace. Quarry looks on, weaponless, as I stalk towards my prey.

"That's the problem, Bud. _Never_ trust a Career." With that, I raise my mace again, and deliver the fatal blow. Energy courses through my veins as I hear the satisfying _crunch_.

* * *

_Orchard Bentley- District 11_

My eyes focus on a large backpack sitting beside a vest of knives. _Those were meant for me_, I tell myself, but the girl from One is running towards them too. Seconds before I reach the vest, the District One tribute reaches it. Grinning with satisfaction, she bends down to pick them up. Instead of throwing a knife, the girl simply brushes her fingers over the knives and admires them.

Someone yells, "I'm getting rid of her!" and the next second, the girl is on the ground, a spear protruding from her stomach. Wide-eyed, I look for the girl's killer. The female tribute from Two is standing there, appreciating her kill.

Before I become the next target, I swoop past the corpse and snatch the vest and the backpack. _I didn't know that Careers killed each other this early in the Games_, I say to myself as I run away from the Bloodbath as fast as I can.

"Eleven's got the knives!" a tribute yells, and a second later I hear a _thud_. A few feet behind me is a spear, sticking straight up in the snow. Chills shoot down my spine. I already _am_ the next target.

* * *

**I left you with a little cliffie, didn't I? Well, that chapter wasn't _too_ short, was it? I think it was pretty decent, though it _was_ late. Anyways, the Bloodbath isn't over yet. This is just kind of a "Part One".**

**Just for the record, Topaz Barton- District 1, Engine Franklin- District 6, Plow Adams- District 11, and Meadow Welsley- District 12 are now out of the Games.**

**In the beginning of the chapter, I usually put the entire list of tributes. Now, I will only be writing the names of those who are still alive, so the list will get shorter and shorter. I will have a new poll up shortly, so vote on that, and thanks to those who voted on this one.**

**I'll see you in a week or two, hopefully. Don't forget to review.**

**~LT**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**l**

**V**


End file.
